


guilty of devotion.

by dylaesthetics



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Cute Dan Howell/Phil Lester, Dan Howell and Phil Lester Are Soulmates, Dan Howell and Phil Lester Are Teenagers, Dan Howell/Phil Lester Comfort, Dan Howell/Phil Lester Fluff, Dorms, F/F, F/M, Feelings Realization, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, LGBTQ Themes, M/M, Mental Health Issues, POV First Person, POV Multiple, Questioning, dan is a dumbass honestly
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-13
Updated: 2018-04-22
Packaged: 2019-06-01 06:50:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 44,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15137501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dylaesthetics/pseuds/dylaesthetics
Summary: how it feels::- to be just like him- to be born like him- to have loved and lost- to never know what you're looking formaybe i'll::- keep this mind- speak to him- lie to him- play this role- cope with life without hope- act like my act is togetherand live in this moment forever.~slow burn; ongoing~["guilty of devotion" by dylan strayed on spotify]





	1. .:. space cadet // the technicolors

**Author's Note:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: This story will include strong language and possibly offending humor to some, it can also be depressive and/or upsetting at times! You can stop reading at any moment! Take care.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> June, 2018: [Dan waves goodbye to his second, most treasured home]
> 
> Spetember, 2017: [his arrival to a place what could start the next book in the series of his life]

Here it goes. Or should I say, here's where the most wonderful experience I've ever faced ends.

Standing in front of the by some called posh, medieval period looking castle type of building in which I'd been living in for what feels like a century has never been this difficult for me before.

Because Mullingar Art College, with all its educational flaws and the repellent dormitory, happened to become more than just a place I so loathed based on the first impression of it.

My _home_ for the past year. The gracious area, which was all these years ago altered to establish a school for those who have no place in regular middle schools – a seven storeys high college with a roof flat except for a few turrets here and there; a rood I would climb onto to watch the sky sometimes, but not as much anymore. Not as much after the occurrences in April.

Bricks both blue and grey, a large stadium in the shape of an oval down the hill, a steep cliff what could be a 5 minute walk away from the furthest atelier -- overall MAC retraces me back to a memory of watching the first Harry Potter film as a kid, thrilled by the looks of Hogwarts.

To compete with the magic school even more, Lough Owel – one of Mulingar's local lakes – can be spotted in the reflections of the curious place's enormous windows. Which is pretty.

 _Just_ pretty, because I can't afford to get attached to the view now.

I make a steady turn in the direction of the lake and notice two brown skinned girls dressed in yellow walking right to it, both laughing their asses off as they're holding hands. So innocently.

As my gaze lingers on the two intertwined, fragile hands, I begin to ponder whether it's platonic or the opposite. Theoretically speaking, both girl hips are brushing against each other, yet they never lose the hold of the other's arm. They _are_ dating. I hadn't seen anyone holding hands like that since--

Back to the lake.

At a swimming and sailing place this crowded when the sun's heating the air up like it is now, at the end of June, people swim, sunbathe, jump inside from their self brought jumping boards. Kids play in the sharp sand, make sandcastles and some annoying mosquitoes fly around and bring everyone's mood down. Couples lay on the sand, minding their business far from everyone who could be a bother, parents yell at their kids for being in the water without a swimming float, boys attempt to impress their friends--

I recall the first time I stood in this front yard lost, without absolutely anything to hold on to, like the overwhelming day was, in fact, yesterday.

xxx

_september 3rd_

~

_\- Please be good, Daniel. I know you've been through a lot recently but you can make it. It's just a year. Well of course, if you'll like this place, you can stay long-- I put an end to her sentence with a wave of my hand._

_My otherwise exceptionally kind and understanding mother stares at me hopelessly, with heavy tears pouring down her cheeks. But why? If it makes her so emotional then she shouldn't be dropping me off here. Can tell this place stinks from only looking around._

_\- If I begin to like this place, you being serious? This is a disaster, a hell on Earth and, frankly, I shouldn't even be here since I didn't do it on purpose. Do I truly deserve a punishment like this? I-- the running out of things to say I attempt to hide underneath a well-worked fake coughing session. She doesn't seem to notice. Or care._

_\- You haven't even been here for 5 minutes, you can't hate it already. Give it a chance, I'm sure you'll get used to the new surroundings. - my mother says as if she knows exactly how this abandonment feels when you're the person experiencing it._

_Angsty teenager thought vomit is close to the least thing I need in my head right now but in fact, she does not. People around me assume they know what's best for me but how can they - there's a mind of my own behind my eyes and I can work it out for myself most of the time. Receiving this help normally hurts me the most, too. Causes a draining feeling, like I'm too dependent and weak to act without the help of others. Exactly what I'll be forced to do starting this moment._

_\- This is useless. It's not 'just a year', so much can happen, I could just be wasting my time while I could've gone to a better art college back home. What about my Berkshire friends? My drama classes? My hamster? My room? What are you going to do with my room? Rent it to get money and waste it on that stupid boyfriend of yours? – untypically, I raise my voice and want to go on but my mother shushes me after a guy walking past us exclaims 'Jeez' loudly. Her mouth falls ajar to state something and although I'm craving to speak up, I decide to not be rude again. In the end, it's the answers that I thirst for._

_\- We've been through this, Dan, those people were never your friends. Chris? Perhaps, but the rest of them were using you, you should be glad you're not in touch with any of them anymore. - she speaks up like I would've in her position, and I sense a mildly sensitive undertone. Raising my eyebrows, I try to come up with something in my defense._

_Have had enough of the hot feeling in my chest - which is trembling from a mad heart racing like I've just run a marathon -, I kind of lose balance, physically and emotionally. The crack between my lips slightly opens to let out some words engraved in my brains yet nothing seems appropriate enough to say to my mother._

_Except for Chris, perhaps the rest of the people close to me truly don't have the most loving personalities. However, the fun we had together cancels the rest out, fun is what matters. They could even be nice to me once or twice a week, it was alright._

_\- You can take drama classes here and I'm pretty sure I can take care of your hamster. Not like that tiny thing needs a twenty four hour guard. - she finishes, smiling lightly but I hesitate._

_The thing about my mother is that.. Well, she's aspires to please me but in the end falls short. I don't speak my mind about her failures but I wish she acted like a decent grown up more frequently._

_\- What about my room? – I repeat one of my questions with a face so emotionless, the blank expression and bags under my eyes are most definitely alike a zombie's. She takes some time to respond, too._

_\- Look, Dan, I'm aware of how down you look on Theo but I love him, a lot, and you can't see through the way he takes care of our family. He's an incredible human and if it wasn't for him, you wouldn't even be here in the first place. Theo was kind enough to sponsor this occasion and only wants what's best for you. - as soon as those words leave her mouth, I throw my head back laughing ironically. Yeah, right._

_She met Theo - the second man of her dreams after my dad - two summers back, when she was working as a counselor at a local children's summer camp. A laid back camp all about creating any sort of art, similar to what this college's supposed to be about. That year, my mother happened to be invited to teach kids how to crochet and knit, despite of lacking skills at both of those things, either. No one really was a professional since 'Berkshire Crafts' is a small town's low budget camp._

_Her first encounter with Theo wasn't due to him being another counselor, however, she, in fact, was resting in the kitchen when that bastard attempted to steal the food prepared for kids at the camp. As of then, mum was enraged but after realizing that he's just a lonely, poor man wanting to satisfy his physical needs, she helped him out: showed him to the showers, gave him new clothes and let him stay over at our apartment for the night. Apparently, they fell in love - something I have trouble believing in - and he's never stayed anywhere else but at our place since. Mother even sorted him into a job, a salesman, at which he got quite successful and now is known for it locally._

_I wasn't there to see it because of spending the entire summer at my grandmother's but they tell the story to every poor creature who bothers breathing near them._

_\- But wasn't he the one to come up with the idea to transfer me to another country? To get rid of me, of course. Mum, can't you see that he only wants you to fulfill his sexual desires now that you gave him everything else? - I snap at her and a shiver strikes her body; she's left utterly shocked._

_\- Sorry, I didn't mean to say that. - I put a hand on my mouth in realization, attempting to think of a way to make it up for her._

_Yet then again, I just spoke the truth, didn't I? That douche got with her, not knowing she had a child and since he discovered my existence, he's sought for a way to get rid of her girlfriend's son - the burden that I am to him._

_Instead of getting mad, she jaws something about me calling her 'mum' for the first time in years. While another tears travels down her cheek._

_\- Oh, for Christ's sake. - I turn around just as dramatically and begin to walk away, drawing my luggage behind me at the speed of sound, not really aware of my surroundings as my only need is to escape this wholly incomprehensible situation. My mother shouts something at me but I'm having trouble caring at this very point._

_The fact that I had forgotten my laptop in the taxi hit me just as I was about to walk up the stairs to the building's peculiar entrance. Then I swear under my breath and swing around again to find my mother strolling the front yard towards where I'm standing already, my laptop's bag hanging at her shoulder._

_\- You left this. - she passes the black bag to me and I accept it unwillingly, avoiding her gaze. It's quite heavy. Could as well be the guilt I'm carrying._

_\- Listen, just be careful with who you hang out with and don't start anything stupid again. Before you claim that I'm wrong, let me finish. – mum grabs my wrist to avoid my desired fleeing. - You might enjoy this, at least partly. It is college and it is living in the dorms in a different country with your family hundreds of miles away. Independence, something you haven't dealt with before so I need you to promise to be safe and learn when you fail to stay away from danger. This experience will help you in the future and perhaps you'll even get something great out of it. - she pokes my chin so I'd turn to face her. So she could look me in the eyes for reassurance that her boy will be just fine._

_I let out a sigh. Exhausted of all the realizations, like living with a bunch of strangers in a dormitory most likely moldy and destroyed like they are described to be. Or having to take care of all my decisions. Groceries and cooking. Plausible hate from the other students._

_For the first time in forever, I just want to go home._

_\- Most importantly. – mum lets go of me at last to step back. - I know you're old enough to know, but just to remind you; use protection. - she voices seriously and I gasp. Not that I was expecting the-safe-sex conversation after a farewell speech. Knows how to surprise me, doesn't she._

_\- With people of any gender. - the woman insists. I forget to blink._

_Here goes the hundredth attempt to bring up the sexuality talk in the conversation, something she so enjoys simply because when she herself was going through puberty, that her parents never cared to discuss, in a way encouraging their confused daughter's self-esteem to drop._

_I appreciate the concern, but no, thank you._

_\- I'm quite tired of repeating myself. I'm straight, not gay or bi. Or anything else that is there. Straight. - I even spell it out but her face remains the same, like she knows it all. Or could, perhaps, be merely joking, too._

_\- Bad at spelling bees in primary school, worse at them now. Guess some things don't change. - mum shakes her head, copying me by being ironic. –Gay. - she pats on my shoulder encouragingly, now obviously having a laugh._

_Parents love to annoy their children like their children adore annoying them._

_It's not that my relationship with my mum is bad, it isn't that way at all. Actually, we may have one of the least problematic mother-son relationships but there are certain topics that make me want to murder someone._

_\- A reminder that you being bisexual doesn't make me queer in any way. - I somewhat snap at her whereas attempting to be less troublesome so she lets out a loud sigh, appearing just as irritated._

_Her obsession with lgbtq+ I've never understood and, frankly, never been that fond of people that aren't heterosexual either. There's something about liking people of your own gender that bugs the hell out of me. However, totally fine with trans people as I've been friends with so many._

_\- You know I don't care about what your sexuality could be but if you ever feel like something's not.. straight, you can turn to me at any hour of the day. - she promises with a nod._

_\- Whatever. - I mumble with clear annoyance in my voice as she takes one last glance at my clothes and plucks in the white shirt I was forced to wear in my pants._

_Mum, then, stops for a second and her body twitches suddenly; she remembers something._

_\- One last thing. Don't forget to take your pills every night before going to sleep. You can not skip any. - she remarks, making sure I listen to her and remember her words. Words that will be absolutely impossible to remember since I have an alarm set for it at 11PM every bloody night._

_\- I'll try. - I respond kind of softly as we share a quick hug. She peeks at the building behind my back and mutters something I can't understand and don't bother to._

_\- Have a nice time, Daniel. - is the last thing she utters before coughing a little to remove attention off her watery eyes and walking back to the cab that's about to take her back to the airport. Apart from me, she's returning home - to England._

_Once the cab departs and she's nowhere to be seen, I mess my clothes up again. Neat appearance isn't for me._

~

More than three hours here and I have only changed my position from sitting on the from on old friend borrowed plastic luggage I overstuffed with the entirety of my clothes to a bench near the entry. Listening to some _Colour Haze_ on the white headphones I nearly forgot in the plane and inspecting the now semi-familiar surroundings – what I occupied myself with in the past couple of hours.

In the college's website I'd read that someone from an older course comes to pick up the newbies separately and shows them to their dorm room (if they wish to have one) but apparently no one gives a damn about me as the only living creature that's approached me today's been a pigeon rummaging the ground for seeds and accidentally biting into my shoe.

Barely anyone hanging outside could be a reason for both the abandonment and studying the smallest details about the environment. Like the winding square-shaped pavement that begins at the gateway and, dividing in two paths, leads to the entrance evading a rounded birch plantation in the front yard. The black metallic fence that captures the campus, giving it a prison vibe. The endless oak trees all around the area making me shiver from the thought of being outside in the dark; call me odd but that won't stop me from finding trees creepy and fearing them. Those and the dark, among endless other things.

The structure of the college appears like any other old school, really. I can only hope it's better on the inside to lessen the dissatisfaction for, well, _some_ thing.

The upcoming year could take tons of unexpected turns, hence I'm hesitated to even follow someone appearing just as lost as myself inside. Because that someone might affect my future in ways I can't possibly predict. Or simply tell me to fuck off.

Overthinking takes a heavy tool on me, not that it's hard to notice.

Meanwhile the barely cloudy sky begins to change from a light blue to multiple shades of orange and violet, abruptly. Autumn hasn't come yet but it's visibly - and swiftly - getting darker sooner every night. Depressing but aesthetically pleasing so I can't really complain.

Again - the sun's setting; so here I wonder what time it's going to be when I gain the courage to cross the doorstep. At last.

The sunset doesn't attract just the night creatures, though. A slowly evolving crowd of students gathers near where I'm attempting to escape the world. So staring at my knees to avoid civilization as soon as I notice chatty teenagers wending their way towards my bench it is. Obviously, these humans have to settle down next to me, not anywhere else where they could easily hang alone.

In the 21st century I expect students to waste their time in their rooms with faces buried in various screens, God how they've let me down.

As another utterly depressing instrumental song playing on my headphones is about to reach the second verse, it cuts off. A quick, clueless glance at a black screen later, I take a moment to comprehend that the device's charged out.

Groaning loudly, I immediately glance at the unwelcome pair on the bench next to me to check if they've noticed the awkward sound, which, based on their confirming mocking smirks, they have and I'm eager to bury my head in the collar of Theo's old white shirt, shut my eyes and wish I didn't exist to say the least. Instead, my eyes twitch and I stroke my temples while looking into the opposite direction.

\- Can I help you with something? – a sharp voice belonging a guy with the richest Irish accent perceived so far in this trip disturbs my somewhat peace and I stare up, unable to see the person for a moment due to a sudden brightness and my eyes failing to adjust just yet.

Then, I spot a short - to me cause I may as well be as tall as a giraffe – probably twenty something guy standing a few yards from me, scanning my face. A student, supposedly, wearing a black beanie covering his hair not perfectly enough so a few strands of green hair have escaped and hang over the boy's wide forehead. After switching from staring at his facial hair that matches the beanie to how the green on his head surprisingly suits the pale skin, I look up entirely to meet the guy's eyes, deciding on whether I should get up or keep sitting.

The dyed haired boy notices my unnatural movements and clears his throat before settling down on my left, so close to the pair he by design or not signaling them to whoosh away, which they do in dissatisfaction.

\- You _could_ help me, actually. I'm young. I mean, new. - I mumble, wincing at my stutters. Yet the Irish person carries on smiling at me kindly.

\- It's alright to be scared or feel uncomfortable. It's awfully common, especially for someone so brave to arrive alone like you. I'd say I'm rather tough and nearly freaked on my first day last year. – his squeaky voice is also loud, so his passionately fast speaking I can't follow even more. - Who are you? Full name, ID, card number and bank account password, please. - he asks in obvious irony.

Laughing, I, in my head, thank this pleasantly understanding person for ceasing the discomfort before responding.

\- I'm Daniel Howell, but I guess some use just Dan for the convenience of being able to shorten my name. Who are _you_? - I question carefully, fearing to be the one to continue our odd conversation. However, the guy continues grinning encouragingly, apparently delighted I've done such move.

 _He's quite nice, he won't hurt me_ , I have to remind myself.

\- I'm Sean McLoughlin but I'd much rather prefer if you called me Jack. Rather strange but please do and I might explain why at some point. - the boy takes an iPhone out of his jeans bum pocket, scrolling through some sort of a list. - So, you _are_ Dan Howell. - he finishes off, uttering a quiet _Let me see_ under his nose.

I furrow my eyebrows at his comment in confusion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter's song: dan  
> [each chapter's song or two expresses what's happening in it; it gets more interesting if you actually listen to them]  
> IMPORTANT:: the book gets much better after you get through the first chapters. i've been writing it since 2016 and wanted to leave some parts of it inside you can see the improvement of my writing up to this point.  
> \- d


	2. .:. sad boy // laila

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> September, 2017: [Dan meets Phil, who turns out will have an important place in his life]
> 
> [Dan notices a girl he struggles to forget]

\- What's that? - I point at the list on his phone, directing my question to Jack in an inquisitive way.

The curious-looking guy therefore looks up at me, rubbing his chin.

His innocent action reminds of Chris, my very best friend from Berkshire, instantly. Back home, he subconsciously rubbed _his_ chin whenever the blond felt uncomfortable with someone perusing his appearance for too long. To prevent anything like so, I shift my attention to a ladybug crawling across my luggage. Until the Jack person launches into a chaotic monologue.

\- Since I myself am a second and those had been provided with lists of our new students – that technically they're not allowed to but our college is running low on staff --, well, we're supposed to help people like you register and show them to their rooms. – he seems to never take breaths between words, agitating an odd form of anxiety in my bones. - To be honest your non-attendance freaked me out, you--. See, the first years typically kill time in the waiting room instead of hanging around the campus on their own, seemingly dreading to enter the building. If it weren't for my friend who suggested me to keep searching for, I quote, _a fine hottie like you_ , at a specific point around 4 o'clock I would've given up entirely. But here I am. – Jack finishes proudly, rather accomplished to have followed the friend's suggestion.

I nod my head slightly, contemplating whether now is too late to get another taxi back to the airport and catch the next flight to anywhere but here, yet Jack stares at me like he's expecting a response just as detailed.

\- Your friend, is she here with you? - I say the first thing that comes into my mind, watching the guy furrow his eyebrows at me, confused.

\- No, I sent your picture to-- it's not-- Wait, is that-- Jack gets distracted by something behind my back while I keep sitting there still, my mouth hanging open. The restlessly moving boy beside me shakes his head no and stalls before rising up all of the sudden.

The opposite of organized to say the least.

\- We should head inside before the registration table is taken down. – Jack grabs me by my elbow unexpectedly as I tilt my head sideways in hesitancy. - A few necessities to handle before we get to your room. – he tugs me a step closer to the entry of the frightening college until I give in and walk myself.

The hefty luggage I keep dragging along isn't making it any easier; I'm afraid my camera could hit some other object and break, which would be another disastrous way to worsen the day.

After all, this moving process isn't something I look forward to. Besides the strangely likeable Sean-Jack person, the rest of this experience is too unfamiliar for someone accustomed to exist according to a plan.

In a pretty uncomfortable silence Jack and I walk to the main door of the college so I summon my courage all-together to approach the green haired guy like he so casually could engage in conversation with me.

\- What are you studying? - I exhale roughly as Jack glances at me from my left and grins, likely kind of proud of me for having the guts to talk.

\- I'm a filmmaker, though, we sort of are forced to do everything the rest of the media department does. Beyond the hard work, weekly video filming, which I, by the way, savour more than any other type of art, it is. Makes my life have a purpose, you know. – he says seriously as we make our way into the building with students pushing us aside to get through first. - Which department did you sign up for? – curiously Jack questions when one of my, as of now, rude schoolmates accidentally elbows me in the face just to receive my famous death glare in the following seconds, before I attempt to ignore the fact that my gross face in that moment went noticed to Jack.

To the question I never respond and remain silent to investigate the inside of the college for the very first time, surprised by its elegance and surfeit of space.

The main hall's divided in two halves by a strangely shaped transparent glass wall, one partly coated in fresh black marks. A popular object, based on the people staring at their friends on the opposite side through the glass. Laughing at the transformed reflection.

The left side is overflowing with upholstered stools, chairs, Lawson sofas and even a couple of bean bags that the students are lying and sitting on. Most of them on their phones or occupied speaking to their course mates - or friends - whereas some are on their own, doodling in artsy notebooks or simply inspecting their surroundings, such as irritating couples snogging like they're at a party. Crowded yet, allegedly, still a pleasant place to hang out at.

A sign on the furthest wall of this side, covered in stickers, says 'where the students crash' and points an arrow to the left.

The right side, however, is the cloak room. With hardly any outwear there, probably due to the warm weather, it's completely opposite of the left side -- the only person there is an old lady which, as it seems, takes responsibility for the clothes. She's pressing her body to the counter in front of her, with an obscure magazine in her hands. Doors to three restrooms to the furthest right, with something written all over one of them, unluckily too far from me to tell apart what exactly.

After allowing me to study our surroundings for a moment, Jack takes my arm again and shows me to the right. Where I, at last, notice the registration table nearby the door through which I followed my awfully kind companion inside.

A purple haired, long faced person with spectacles sitting at it, in the meantime enthusiastically talking to an overly confused semi brown skinned girl, dressed in clothes too dark to not become the center of my attention in a hall this drastically different.

The possible goth's carrying a _lot_ of bags, one of them unquestionably for a camera so, reminded of my own device once again, I glance at my luggage praying to all gods there are that my most important belonging's safe.

As we near the table, I'm offered to examine her appearance more. 

The good looking student has wavy, platinum blonde hair with pink ends, along with a very pleasing collection of tattoos inking her arms. Tattoos; my absolute favourite concept of art. 

Then how do I know where to go in the morning? - she questions the purple haired gal at the table in an accent familiar to Jack's and takes a strand of her hair behind her ear, allowing me to see a half of her face. 

It's very small, coated in almost unnoticeable freckles (she must've done something to cover them up), searching green eyes and the most interestingly shaped lips. I linger my gaze on them for a while, intrigued, until she turns her head a bit closer into my direction and catches me, easily an alarming stranger, leering. An odd glare later I immediately turn my head the opposite way, beating myself up in my mind for being such a creep. 

Back to the college, I suppose. 

The hall's walls are grey, with suiting brown wooden trim accents. From this angle, the glass wall can be perceived as a whiteboard as people use markers to write all over it. All kinds of both appropriate and inappropriate sets of words, 'how the fuck is it september again?' and 'michelle fancies fannies' for instance. 

Stunned, I blink when I spot my name, :Daniel, written on the glass in the same way I regularly write it. Bold of me to think I was original. 

\- And what do we have _here_? - a low voice distracts me from the breathtaking creation in the middle of the hall and I focus my glance on a pretty tall (in comparison to Jack), oddly dressed black haired guy with a huge luggage hanging at his hand. In front of us, he's shifting his gaze from Jack to me suspiciously. 

\- Holy crap! - Jack exclaims, his voice reaching the highest possible sound ever heard from a man before. He, then, steps forward cheerily and puts his arms around the boy's neck, blabbering something while his head is buried in the taller person's shoulder. 

During the hug, the newcomer's giving me a who-the-fuck-are-you look but focuses on his friend, who quits hanging at his neck quickly. 

While they begin to rant to each other excitedly, I third wheel, awkwardly, unable to participate in their conversation about the break as, frankly, I don't know any of these people. Though, I'm blessed with another chance to freakishly study the pretty girl at the table. 

For my disappointment she isn't there anymore, indicating I'm the next person in line as well. I catch a glimpse of the registration table kid tapping their fingers on the plastic surface of the table, waiting for me to speak up. 

I give them a stressed smile and make a 180 degree turn again. 

The hall is filling up with more and more people, meaning I can't help but to feel embarrassed as if I'm naked on stage and everybody's laughing at my miserableness. Shrugging off the anxiety, I fix on Jack and his exotic friend right when they finish some sort of a handshake, both chuckling. 

The mysterious person doesn't seem to stop touching their friend as he takes off Jack's beanie and tousles his already crinkly hair in a juvenile way. Jack, on the other hand, punches him softly and takes a step backwards, nearing me. 

Their obvious chemistry. Something tons of people would die to experience themselves. 

\- Thought I saw you before but you look so much different with the quiff and new clothes, no wonder I couldn't recognize you. - Jack takes back his beanie to hold it in his hand, feeling the soft fabric. The dark haired guy giggles, his blueish eyes shining of happiness. 

\- I'd say the same but you literally post videos every other day and seeing your face all over YouTube is getting exhausting. - I notice that his accent is a bit different than anyone else's I've heard today. Or perhaps I'm no good with telling accents apart. - Yet you look different in a way, too. Has a 100 thousand subscriber worth YouTube channel changed you? 

Considering that their eyes are locked on each other, the two guys aren't even seeing me. Which, for the first time in my life, is not a complaint. In fact, the side of me that digs the process of analyzing a person before you get to know them feeds on having a better look at both the newcomer and Jack. Though, will I have to get to know them? 

-If we're talking different, I should add your skin looks the same pale shade as before despite the fact you just spent two months in Florida. - Jack blurts out mockingly yet in a loving undertone. 

They're communicating in a way so strange, it's difficult for an unrelated observer to comprehend their discussions. Perhaps the bond's to blame. 

When Jack's friend speaks up again, I get distracted by the cool looking girl from before exiting one of the bathrooms. So that's where she disappeared. 

\- ...about the lets play you uploaded the other day, I couldn't actually believe you'd fail so-- the guy keeps on talking as I begin to feel dizziness in my nose, attempting to release. 

When the black haired guy is in the middle of his story, I interrupt him with a sneeze so incredibly loud, it catches everyone's attention. Some people burst into laughter, some utter 'bless you'. 

\- Hold on, is this the guy whose picture you sent me earlier? - Sean's friend says judgingly, grinning like a kid but I remain silent, undoubtedly giving a wonderful first impression. MAC will certainly become another place I'll struggle to fit in. 

Another. 

\- Yeah, that's Dan, the first year. Seems pretty hetero, though, sorry to disappoint you, Phil. - Jack talks in my place and I instantly regret not opening my mouth when I had the chance. 

Apart from being forced to listen to more of their odd conversations, I've figured out Jack's friend's name, at last. 

As a person dressed in all radiant yellow pushes me rudely, I come to terms with the fact that the three of us have been standing in the way of the queue this whole time. A quiet apology to some surrounders later, I relocate away from the registration place and the crowd lining up to it. 

\- Fucking hell, he's even more alluring in person. - Phil mumbles to Jack _almost_ inaudibly, pretending like he isn't staring at me when he, turned to his friend with palms slightly covering his eyes, obviously is. 

I don't know what to think so I spit out the most reasonable question, speaking to the guy for the first time. 

\- I'm sorry, who _are_ you? - my voice cracks midsentence, most likely due to talking so little since mum's abandonment. I clear my throat in embarrassment, by this point with a neck aching from the catastrophic anxiety my body assumes it needs to provide. 

\- Oh, Phil's gay. - Jack blurts out excitedly, without having second thoughts, and I jump a little, from this sudden exclaim coming from my left. 

The mentioned boy, however, lets out a heartfelt laugh. 

\- Jack, didn't I-- Didn't I tell you to stop bringing up the gay thing into every conversation? You're scaring people who consider coming out a huge deal. - he continues chuckling between words until Jack joins in. 

I _accidentally_ sigh and after realizing what I've done, attempt to cover it up with a cough. Again. 

\- Oh. He is? - I sound way more asshole-ish than I intend to, because, even though I'm not happy with this gay person, the one thing my parents taught me as a kid was to treat a person nicely no matter how certain qualities of theirs make you feel. 

I wonder whether _anyone's_ into people of a gender different from theirs anymore. First my mum, who's been out as bisexual for my entire life. Then the snuggling students I keep spotting round the hall. Now this Phil guy, whom I'm forced to hang out with for the time being. It is kind of frustrating how everyone around but me doesn't seem to give a damn about being queer. Something not so normal to me. 

\- Please tell me you're not homophobic. - the two friends speak simultaneously, appearing a little let down. They then lock eyes with each other for the hundredth time, smirking at how in sync they are, whereas I. 

I hesitate. 

\- Nah, I'm not. - a lie escapes my mouth automatically. - Well, kind of. You do you, I suppose. Are-- are you two.. _together_? - I question unsurely, hoping I haven't touched a painful subject. 

\- We would never, Jack's far too into ladies. - Phil rolls his eyes in a funny manner. - We're course mates. Who happened to become best friends during year 1 as well. - he adds dreamily, presumably lingering on a memory in his mind. 

\- I'm Philip, or Phil, how my friends tend to call me. It is indeed lovely meeting you as well, _no homo Dan_. - he gives me an enthusiastic nod, emphasizing the last part, surprisingly the opposite of butthurt. My arm twitches, wanting to hold itself out and give him a handshake but I resist; he doesn't seem like the guy who'd exchange handshakes. Except for the one earlier with, as I've now found out, his best friend. 

\- Can I call you Phil? - I ask politely, ignoring the nickname he'd just given me, as someone from behind demands me to _go stand somewhere else_ and kicks my luggage. In discomfort, I step even further from the table. 

Jack notices the movement, whereas Phil's visibly considering what to respond with, neglecting our surroundings. 

\- Of course you can. - he speaks in the end as a relieved chuckle departs from my mouth. 

A certain amount of jumpiness and freaking out over every little thing I face is a quality of mine, I admit. A problem I haven't found a solution for in the past seventeen years of my life yet, one that affects not only how my personality comes across as to humans I interact with, but increases the over analyzing as well. 

\- How about we head to our rooms to put down the ton of bags you've brought and have this absolutely comfortable conversation there since we're in the way of all the first years right now? - Jack suggests pointing at the check-in table behind me, scratching his nose impatiently. To which both Phil and I nod in response. 

I stand there with a mind blank while Jack interrupts the registration table gal to pass on some of my personal information, which he must've found out from the files he was given. 

I don't hear a thing, all I can concentrate on is the weight of my bag and how mentally knackered I am. At least 5 hours since my arrival have passed and I've only been productive socially, even that for not more than the past 15 minutes or so. 

Typically, I'm interpreted as an introverted human being so the weight of my mind in circumstances this overwhelming can only be decreased by alone time. Something I may lack because of meeting my roommate, who's going to start living me starting tonight, as soon as Jack's finished signing up for me. 

When someone – Phil's best friend, as I realize in a second - taps on my shoulder, my body decides to shiver from the unexpected contact. 

\- Everything's settled, you're an official student of MAC now. – the green haired boy pats on my shoulder stiffly, undoubtedly attempting to cheer me up. See, I don't have to observe my face to tell it appears desolate and lifeless to others. 

\- The key to your room. – he stops me when I've prepared to stroll across the hall to get away before anyone notices, handing the mentioned small piece of metal, then passing another one to Phil, who had been beside me, humming something silently, the entire time. 

A key with a 555 craved on a keychain attached to it. 

Five, five, five. Appropriate, as in numerology triple 5 indicates that a change, as well as freedom, exploration and travel, are coming. Which they, undeniably, are. 

Unseen until the very last moment, Jack and Phil have begun their way across the, a little less stuffed, hall. I follow them in a rush, cussing to myself about how these people abandoned me when they promised to continue hanging out. Guess in revenge for wishing to leave them, too. 

Especially after moving so quickly, I notice how dragging the suitcase has become a pain; I'm afraid of falling over and embarrassing myself in front of all the surrounding students. How much I care about others opinion of me, it's unhealthy. 

Once I catch up and the three of us get to the obnoxious sign that points to the dormitory, we amble inside the stairway below it, rapidly turning right. 

I stall after becoming aware of how awfully steep and narrow the stairs we're about to walk up to are, whereas Phil, with the help of Jack, picks up his luggage and the two remain their pace. In a second or a couple of summoning strength to perform this challenge, I accompany them. 

\- Your room's on the fifth floor. I'm afraid the elevator's still being _repaired_ after what happened to that poor claustrophobic lad in it last semester. - Jack looks down at me when we've reached the next floor. Either of them don't look exhausted at all and yet again, I envy fit people. 

I'm intrigued in what had gone down in the elevator but walking up the stairs has resulted in losing my breath; not even a word wants to exit my lips. 

The two friends eventually proceed with the earlier begun discussion about Jack's summer spent filming gaming videos and vlogs all over Ireland, and Phil's summer visiting his American family in Florida. They seem to be having a pleasant conversation and even if I did feel like talking, instead of crawling onto a bed and sobbing under the covers, I wouldn't join in. 

A well-known fact -- that I ruin pretty much everything I participate in. 

After what feels like a decade, we reach the floor with a massive black 5 painted by its entrance and step inside the doorway. So surprised to have managed to get this far, we walk into a human-less lobby. 

Besides an inviting ping pong table, two other doors on the right and the left side of this grey room catch my attention. The floor's rather wrecked and dark unlike some of the others that caught my eye on the way up here. 

\- Sorry for the way it looks, MAC doesn't really have the money to renovate every floor. – Jack apologizes, defending his school. A forced smile on my face awakes. 

Not that the place's so terrific, I'm merely having trouble functioning at this point. 

Knowingly, the two best friends walk over to the left entrance and I tag along. Frankly, like I always do due to never leading a group. Due to being the least person whose opinions matter, who has a right to decide. 

In seconds, we end up in a poorly lit hallway with numerous doors on both sides of it. Each one of them has a number painted on, most of them drastically different from one other. An art college I've joined, apparently. 

\- You hardly talk. – Phil announces out of the blue, making me question whether he likes to call people out. - So I seriously can't wait to get to know you and figure what's going on in your mind, Dan. – he clarifies his spoken after I furrow my eyebrows in slight confusion and we all stop at a door with a _555_ written on it in blue graffiti. 

My room. 

\- Sorry if this comes across as rude but why do you think we'll be hanging out more? - I question him cluelessly while Jack and Phil share glances. 

Oh, how I loathe it when people who know each other well act superior about things that only the two of them know. God, be plain and clear, don't leave others feeling left out. 

Phil clears his throat, removing a tiny object from his jean jacket's chest pocket. In the dark I struggle with understanding what it is, until a sudden flash of light enlightens me. 

\- Well, first of all-- aren't you assigned to be my new roommate? - Phil points at my key, then the one hanging at his index finger, and I detect the same number on his piece as on my. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter's song: dan
> 
> dnp are studying at an art college mainly because i am, too. it's my second year of studying film so most of their experiences will be influenced from what i've had to deal with.
> 
> build ups who? i swear they appear eventually and will be too much at times.
> 
> PLEASE NOTE THAT THE FOLLOWING CHAPTERS ARE WAY BETTER-WRITTEN, THIS IS JUST THE BEGINNING


	3. .:. blank you out // seafret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> September, 2017: [Dan's welcomed to the dorms with a bottle of vodka and a blunt]
> 
> [an innocent kiss]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: usage of marijuana and alcohol

_september 4th_

4 in the morning. Enya lying on my legs, buried in the sheets of my newly claimed bed. Sleep talking something about a makeup tutorial she'd seen on YouTube for what feels like hours.

The only source of light in our room - a lamp on the nightstand next to Phil's bed; it lights up the room poorly, giving the space a homely vibe. Like the lighting in your room at the end of the day, when you're all set to fall sleep but _have_ to check your phone beforehand.

I couldn't tell much from the first look around the dorm room, when after just arriving the space seemed empty. Empty, what actually turned out to be quite the opposite - more furniture (two nightstands, a desk and a poor quality chair we should probably replace) was hidden in the room's built-in closet by the entrance.

To describe how we changed a room from somewhat tidy to a shipwreck in a matter of hours, I could start with my playlist, which is still playing from Phil's phone right next to my pillow for some reason I can't recall. The new Billie Eilish's song I added to the list on the day we had our flight to Ireland, think that's playing.

The flight was yesterday. How difficult to comprehend all that has happened since.

Moving on.

The room --or my new room here in the dorms of Mullingar Art College-- smells like absolute garbage and I'm unable to tell whether from the scattered pieces of marijuana across the window sill from when Phil rolled the first joint of the night, or the remaining vodka.

Either of those things is making everything seem like we're in a dream. Like nothing exists. Much better that way.

\- Turn that shrap off, I'm trying to sleep. - Phil groans from across the room, lying on his stomach half asleep, with no shirt on.

The boy's sleeping on his bed, the blanket they danced around with earlier nowhere to be seen. Or probably, somewhere on the floor but I'm so tired I can't even move my head to look.

Somewhat hard for me to ignore the fact that both Enya and Phil have so little clothes on. Not because I like the view, which perhaps deep down I kind of do, but it's unnatural seeing two total strangers being this comfortable.

\- What, again? - I respond, putting every bit of energy I have left into a final laugh.

\- That shitrap. Shitty crap. Shit crappy. - Phil talks under his breath while I try my very best to laugh but all my face can make up is a painful smile.

I'm so fucking high. Still.

~

_Terrified, I press on the doorknob to enter the room 555 for the first time._

_Pitch black. I can't see anything but shadows until Phil pushes me aside delicately, to search for the light switch._

_As soon as the room is illuminated, I take a look around the clean, small and almost empty place, with only two beds and a closet filling it up. Not disappointed. I expected less from what people spread around about the conditions of college dormitories._

_Nevertheless, this school sure has a thing for dividing spaces in half._

_One, admittedly, prison-looking bed's placed by the right and the other - the left wall and between them a white sheet, kind of similar to a curtain, not only separates the sides but makes the room appear even smaller, too._

_\- I've really fucking missed this place, my room back home is so much smaller and less inviting. - Phil utters cheerily, throwing his luggage aside, which results in it hitting the floor with a boom, and jumps onto the right side's bed._

_If Phil considers this place better than his bedroom at home, I don't want to think how that's like. Hopefully, his family isn't as broke as it sounds._

_Jack takes a seat at the end of the bed, too, for which Phil starts hitting him so he could have more space for himself but the other boy cuts him off by tickling his friend's hips._

_I carefully put my bag on the floor, rummaging through the mess that is the inside of the suitcase for my charger. After what seems like years, I find it and plug the wire in my phone, then the other end in a socket underneath the left side's bed. On the hard mattress I later sit on barely, my butt covering just an edge of it. Merely because of discomfort._

_The two guys on the other side of the odd curtain are still messing around when I pull myself together to ask at least one of the billion questions troubling my mind._

_\- What it's for? – I utter, pointing at the white sheet with a shaking finger._

_Phil glances at me, lying on his side and attempting to get away from Jack's attacks. He gives me the most cheerful smile, making me doubt his sanity; never have I seen such a happy person before. How does he do that?_

_\- It comes in handy when the roommates have had an argument or they just need some private space. My previous roommate Will and I came up with it after we had an awful break up but neither him nor I could find any other room to move into. It doesn't have to be up all the time, though, roll it up if you'd like. - Phil eventually gets rid of Jack and pays his full attention to me, still having the same genuine smile on his face. I nod at him, giving a little smile back, and stand up to search for the string that rolls up the curtain, losing my balance from the sudden move. It's nowhere to be seen and I face Phil again to ask about it but_

_\- Careful! - Jack and Phil exclaims at the same time and it's when I notice that I'd stepped on the piece of thread I was looking for._

_The sheet comes down, hitting the floor loudly._

_A silence in the room for a second, well, until the two boys, who are now more clearly visible due to having nothing separate the room, begin to laugh at the sight endlessly. I just stand there frozen, the thread still wrapped around my toe, and let out a ridiculous snort._

~

Slowly falling asleep, I relive our night in my head again. A feeling like I've forgotten something is keeping me up. Not even the awful amount of exhaustion helps the falling asleep process.

I glance at Phil to discover he's asleep, with his mouth still open. Seeming profoundly cosy, he makes me envy the boy even more.

From how much I've learnt about Phil tonight, I wish I were able to look at the world the way he sees it.

He, being only 18, has experienced more than I probably will by the end of my life. To him the whole world is a stage that he can never leave unless it's become too much. Phil never misses out on an opportunity, especially if it involves becoming a bit mad for the time being.

Since I, myself, love acting a lot, I find his colourful point of view truly fascinating. I so wish he could lend me at least a whit of his brain.

The curtain that I sort of broke hours ago is still laying on the floor unbothered. We have been too lazy to stick it back up. Even when it interfered the recent dancing.

~

_At around 7 o'clock we realized how hungry we were and spent an hour cooking pasta on Phil's hardly working portable stove. What tasted like absolute shit, soothed our rumbling stomachs since, after all, eating nothing throughout a day so long is blissful._

_By every second passing, I felt more and more comfortable around my new acquaintances. Perhaps even somewhat happy as I hadn't communicated with a person my age in about two months._

_What's fairly strange to me is that Jack, out of all people he met for the first time today, chose to hang out with me. Although, he definitely wouldn't have had if I weren't his best friend's new roommate. Who would willingly want to hang out with me, someone so unpleasant?_

_It came across as a surprise to me that the two aren't living together --essentially, Jack and Phil are such close friends-- but even that had a great explanation._

_Apparently, after an 'accidental' event in the autumn months of their first year in MAC, they were punished badly and weren't allowed to move rooms, like they had planned since becoming friends. Jack and Phil wouldn't tell me what it is they did, only that I'd undoubtedly find out eventually. According to them, there are still a couple of signs of the incident left, all of which the staff can't seem to get rid of. Because the thing's 'so genius'._

_I also discovered that both Jack and Phil are clumsy and idle, which I absolutely have in common with them. Jack, who Phil preferred to call Snack to annoy him, fell over with a pasta dish in his hand while trying to get more comfortable on the floor, his back pressed against the side of Phil's bed. The entire floor was covered in ketchup but we were all too lazy to clean the mess up until Phil accidentally stepped in some._

_I'm still not talking much, afraid I'd mess something up, but after being on twitter for about a half an hour, talking to my internet friends as well as taking quick looks at Jack and Phil every once in a while, I realize how boring it's become._

_\- Can we do something? Please? - I speak to them, throwing my phone on the bed, and watch them react only after a moment during which they're too occupied with thumb-wrestling to even notice the passive-aggressive tone in my voice._

_All I want is to have a little fun at this point. My tired mood is gone, thankfully, and the productive, careless one's taken its place._

_\- Now you're talking. I thought we'd have to waste the entirety of our first day back in dorms doing utterly nothing remarkable. - Phil exhales, tossing around on his bed._

_A little chat about a place that the two guys tend to hang out at when they get sick of the dorms later, we exit the room. Whereas the two friends show hardly any emotion, I get genuinely excited to see what kind of a place we're about to visit._

_My best friend Chris and I had a place just like that at our old school, a place where just us hung out at. Meaning, whenever the bell rang, we'd run upstairs to the fifth floor's hallway, one that was stuffed with some of the no longer necessary furniture. Hardly anyone ever went there due to the stairs to the fifth floor being blocked for years. On our final year of secondary school, though, the hallway was emptied and the stairs - opened up again. People began to come and go there whenever they liked and it showed less signs of being that private for Chris and I anymore._

_We lock the door behind us and I tiptoe after Jack and Phil, acknowledging their chemistry, both physical and emotional, again. All I can think of is how Chris and I haven't even talked all summer due to him being mad at me for leaving England. He couldn't understand that it wasn't up to me._

_A picture of my mother's boyfriend Theo pops up in my mind and I imagine him as a punching bag that I could hit the hell out of if I were fit enough. And if hurting a person physically was legal._

_Because of Theo, I'm here, god knows how many miles away from my hometown and friends. Because of him I have to start over again in a new country and school. I didn't necessarily want this to happen, not so soon._

_Frankly, I'd give up anything to be in Chris' room right now, playing our Sims4 household until it's so late our eyes can't stay open anymore. I miss him a lot. I miss going to the 24 hours Tesco near his house whenever we wanted snacks at 3am. I miss watching him play his guitar for hours on FaceTime when I had problems falling asleep. I miss skipping classes with him to go around old people houses playing our timeless pranks on them. Most of all, I miss being able to tell him everything that's on my mind; he was and so far is the only person that ever bothered to hear me out._

_I wish I would've brought my phone with me to try to contact him again, wishing for a reply, any response. He's been ignoring my texts for 2 months now. Like we were never even friends._

_Walking to Jack and Phil's place seems to never end, although we repeat the same route back to the staircase and a couple of floors down. Add a couple more turns._

_On the topic, this building's far too confusing to me. I have never even seen a dormitory inside of a school before in my life. Who would establish that?_

_When we hung out in room 555, I scanned what I could see outside of the window in such twilight, noticing that the construction's remarkably larger than it appeared like from the front yard. It's in the shape of the letter U and another, much smaller, two story house has been built in the middle of the ground between the two sides of U._

_I shift my attention back to Jack and Phil when they inform me that we've reached our destination, at last._

_Somehow still in the staircase, we're standing next to a wide window sill that a lot of people can fit on. A clean one, however, the window itself is covered in graffiti and Sharpie marks, some of them announcing things like 'phil likes dicks' and 'melanie had bad sex here once'._

_Wonder if that's related._

_\- What do you think? - Jack asks me, getting on the sill along with Phil, who's staring at me strangely. I clear my throat._

_\- It's awesome. Everything here is cool, really. The more I see of this place, the better it gets. - surprisingly for all, I speak my actual thoughts, positive ones._

_In a second, I get on the sill as well and sense Phil still inspecting me, from the bottom to the top, which leaves me feeling slightly awkward since I'm not that confident in my body. In fact, I consider it ugly._

_\- Look who finally opened up! I knew he'd like it, right, Phil? - Jack attempts to include his best friend in the conversation, yet Phil seems to ignore his effort as he opens his mouth to change the topic._

_\- What's up with your clothes? It's, like, 18°C outside. - he asks, somewhat judging._

_He might refer to how I still haven't changed to other clothes – from wearing my white shirt, a leather jacket over it and some black jeans to something casual. It is quite warm and soothing here, which could be why he's asking, yet I'm constantly freezing, wherever I am. Gets even worse during winter._

_\- I'm from Britain, where it rains 367 days a year so you can expect me to be a little cautious. - I laugh a little, scratching my neck, whereas Jack opens his mouth widely after I've finished speaking._

_Phil, however, has the same unreadable look on his face._

_\- Where in Britain? - he keeps on interrogating me. I somehow stay focused, even if it's one of the hardest things for me to do._

_Ever since I was a kid, concentrating on anything, no matter how important it is, has been so difficult, I've had some really embarrassing anger outbursts in front of my peers. I tend to get frustrated whenever things aren't happening according to my plans. Later on, my parents found out the reasoning behind my struggles was, in fact, ADHD._

_\- England, Berkshire to be precise. But you Irish kids have no idea where that is, do you? - I giggle again, still awkwardly._

_I bet they're curious why, of all places, I decided to come to Mullingar. Of course, they wouldn't know the moving wasn't my decision. Yet._

_\- Actually, Dan, I'm from Lancashire. - Phil utters satisfactorily, smirking intensely. Now I'm the one staring at him strangely. Lancashire. A town in England._

_How stunning. Never would I have a clue that I'm not the only outcast. There's someone else who isn't from Ireland, the same as me. A person who also happens to be my roommate, making me feel like I fit in a bit more._

_\- Well, that explains the terrible, made up accent. - I announce after the brief moment of realization. Phil air-punches me while Jack throws his head back, laughing merrily._

_To be honest, I'm sick and envious of their happy vibe; what's the explanation behind these college kids' untroubled existence? From what I've heard, the specific kind's all depressed and exhausted. Apparently, those two are exceptions._

_\- We all have been wondering what's up with yours, too, don't worry. - Jack converses in, noticeably feeling a little left out. - Out of all places, why on Earth are you here? - he pops the question I knew either of them would ask._

_I study the two guys in front of me carefully, wondering whether I'd trust these almost-strangers with my private nonsense. I do depend on the most people I meet on the internet, so why not these two, with whom I, as I now begin to become aware of, am going to spend a lot of time with._

_Well, not if they turn out to be complete assholes. My mother was told that I could switch rooms if I felt the need to._

_\- My mum's boyfriend has attempted to get entirely rid of me ever since I accidentally - or not - ruined their trip to Hawaii by giving the guy - his name's Theo - an outdated passport of his. At the time I was also whining about wanting to go to an art college and Theo thought it'd be the perfect idea for me to go to an Irish school that he once dropped out of. So he punished me by sending me to another country, away from everyone I - moderately - loved. - I fill the silence by breaking down my sob story in a clearly exaggerated tone so they wouldn't worry. Although being sent to Ireland is a big deal, it's not like I, deep in my heart, didn't want a change from the depressing small town I've spent my entire life in._

_If things were different, I'd probably be complaining about this to Chris on a daily basis. It has been difficult for me to go all this way, not being able to talk to anyone._

_As my actual best friend never wanted to hear the explanation, because he was too heartbroken to talk to me, Jack and Phil might be the only people my age I've told the original story to._

_Am I opening up to strangers? Yes. Should I be more careful? Obviously. Do I want to? Not now._

_\- First of all, Theo sounds like a fucking dog's name. - after a quick moment of them processing what I've just revealed, Phil states. - Actually, I think my friend once had a golden retriever called like that._

_Jack and I burst into a passionate laughter, to say the least._

~

Hours and hours later, Chris still hasn't left my mind.

I tried to contact him as soon as we got back to our room but of course, there isn't a single response back. Silence, it's what I'm slowly beginning to get used to.

The room is silent, too. Phil's phone, which had been playing my music before, is dead, Enya isn't sleep talking anymore and besides Phil's snoring - _pleasantly_ silent.

I feel En's weight on my body as a reminder of how crazy tonight emerged, later and later into the evening.

~

_Lying on the graffiti window sill, we discuss our pasts, truly intrigued to hear each other out. For someone who can never listen to someone talk for hours on end, even I've grasped quite a lot information about these guys._

_Jack's originally from Mullingar, though, he never gave thought to applying for this college; all he ever dreamed of doing after graduating secondary school was leaving his hometown for good to study at a highly rated college specifically for filmmakers somewhere near Dublin. But when his dream college --the only college he applied for-- declined his application, he had nothing else left to do but to stay in his hometown, stuck in the local college. In the end, he may have fallen in love with MAC and his department, which, as a matter of fact, is called Mullingar Department of Media Art. Short for MDMA._

Exactly.

_Phil, however, found out about this school from his internet friend Lucy, who attended MAC for a semester but then dropped out because of getting pregnant. He liked the idea of moving to another English speaking country to go to college so he spent all of his previous school's final scholarship on a one way ticket here and a couple of extra things. He had only just turned 17 and had no experience in making videos, yet he felt like the Media Art department's course for video operators was the most suitable for him. Turns out, it actually was._

_\- Hold on, Phil, have you got the Thing? - Jack winks at his best friend, interrupting his story about his relatives finding out about him spontaneously going to Ireland, which he's definitely heard before. Quite rude of him, I wanted to hear the end of it._

_Phil appears addled at Jack's spoken for a second but then his eyes begin to glow._

_\- I do for a fact and that's an amazing idea. – he speaks in excitement, jumping down from the sill, ready to go somewhere. Jack cautiously gets down as well and I follow his example._

_\- What are you on about? - I ask out of curiosity when we begin ambling somewhere again. Despite of having no idea about what's happening - and because I wouldn't be able to get back to my room by myself -, it's amusing so I go with the flow._

_Phil responds when we finish trudging up the stairs, away from the famous, or infamous because of the inappropriate sayings painted on, sill._

_\- I got the good stuff from Charlie earlier. Barbie. - he grins brightly, patting his jeans pocket softly. Noticing the pat, Jack applauds, jumping up._

_Suppose it's safe to say I've never been so confused by a sentence before in my life._

_\- The what? - I question in uncertainty, making Jack and Phil stop walking for a second to glance at me, obviously finding my lack of understanding hilarious._

_\- That's how we call weed. So other people wouldn't understand, like you just now. - Jack explains, afterwards telling a story about how Phil chanted the word Barbie during their photography class once, causing everyone to question the boy's sanity for the rather millionth time._

_\- You guys are truly odd, I like you. - I chuckle, imagining Phil actually chanting it out loud. Which isn't that hard really, based on how he's acting this evening._

_In a couple of minutes, we arrive at the entrance hall, the one with the odd glass dividing it, and Phil leaves the two of us there, muttering something about being right back and that Jack and I should wait for him here._

_We stand there quietly until the other boy disturbs the monkey banging cymbals in my mind and breaks the silence._

_\- You don't have to do it. I mean, smoke weed. It's up to you, do it only if you really want to. - he utters, punching me in the shoulder in a friendly way. I freeze from the touch._

_Getting touched by people who aren't my friends is a huge no._

_\- Oh, it's fine. I've smoked before, it's not that big of a deal. – I reply dreamily, suddenly reminded by all those times when me and Chris' group of friends gathered on weekends and crashed local parties to steal some of their alcohol and then get high at deserted children playgrounds. On every occasion, Chris took care of me; there wasn't a time I did not get too high, making it a bad idea to go home to my straight edge mother and her boyfriend, who would kill to find another reason to loathe me more. So my friend dragged me to his place to let me crash there every time, even if it meant I'd take up all the space on his bed._

_Chris' parents hated me. They repeatedly told him that I'm a bad influence behind my back, though they had no idea Chris got just as drunk and high as me most of the time because, apart from me, he could control the way he acted._

_That, and other reasons involving my best friend's step brother were why Chris' mums wanted nothing for their son to do with me. They must be happy I haven't visited their residence all summer._

_\- Alright. But I've also got a huge bottle of vodka and some apple juice up in my room, how do you feel about that? - Jack begins an entirely different conversation._

~

I attempt to search for my phone by inspecting our messy room with my eyes but after being unsuccessful, I rise from the mattress unwillingly. Which is quite hard to without waking Enya up, but I try my best.

When, as it seems, her nap I _haven't_ interrupted, I carry on the rummaging; still haven't set alarms for the first day of school (which, actually, starts in a couple of hours).

Surprisingly, the phone still happens to lay underneath my bed, where I last caught a glimpse of it. I unblock it, taking a look at the time first.

4:40am. Thankfully, hasn't been that long since I last checked. Time passes too slow when you're high, perhaps for the best.

The Whatsapp chat with Chris is still open. I get unpleasant shivers by only being conscious of how many messages I have been sending to him during the last two months. Messages marked blue, indicating he's read them, yet left them that way.

Someone yawns softly and I look up, uncomfortably meeting eyes with a just woken up En. 

She's staring at my face in pure admiration which I find extremely strange, yet it isn't the first time she's looked at me in that way tonight. Same as me. I couldn't take my eyes off her while the marijuana was kicking in.

\- Dan. Hey. Um, where am I? - she asks, scanning the room, clearly disoriented.

I'm a bit irritated by the fact that she doesn't recognize it but I can't necessarily blame her. She's only been here for a couple of hours, all of them spent drunk.

\- You're in Phil's.. and my room. I'd really appreciate if you went to your own room, though. None of us wants to get in trouble. - I sound way colder than I intend to and beat myself up for it in my head. En keeps on staring, appearing more upset than satisfied now.

\- You would? I mean. Sure, the place's all yours. - En slowly sits up from her previous position. I'm still on the floor with my phone in my, for some reason, shaking left hand.

I get lost in my pondering, worrying whether I've offended her, until she distracts the train of thoughts by leaving. By leaving a little kiss on my cheek, as well as giving it a squeeze, before kneeling down to collect her belongings.

I shake my head, falling back into the present and watch her leave the room, with some of her clothes in her hands as she had no time to put them on.

After a pretty long moment of glaring at the door, I get under my bed's covers, feeling a bit shaken up by the truly unforeseen kiss.

~

_\- Phiiil! - I scream, falling onto my mattress with a loud noise._

_I haven't figured out how long it's been since Phil and I are back in our room but before our arrival, I had the chance to explore the school's neighborhood in the dark, sharing two blunts between the three of us there._

_Frankly, smoking Barbie tonight is one of the best things that has happened to me since the last time I got to inhale some. My life isn't exciting lately._

_Jack left our 'party' as soon as he found out that his girlfriend had turned up to the dormitory but being as generous as he is, the boy managed to slip his previously mentioned bottle of vodka in our room._

_\- Stop yelling, you moron. What is it? - Phil groans from his side of the room, clearly agitated._

_\- How do you spell your full name? - I ask him, trying to focus on the pendant lamp upon us, reminding me of how the Moon shines in the sky. It's so hard to concentrate because as soon as I fix on something, the scenery begins to move a little to the left and I almost get motion sick._

_\- It's like.. P, h, i, single l, i, p. - Phil spells out his name, emphasizing each letter._

_\- That's what I thought. A singular L. Your parents are weirdos. - I turn to my side so I could look at Phil properly, finding himself already glaring at me._

_\- I don't have parents._

_\- Oh. I'm sorry. - I apologize almost inaudibly; my mouth stays open. Of course I've forgotten to ask about his family's situation, assuming it._

_Phil shifts his gaze to the ceiling and I watch him sigh. He's mildly stroking the wall with his fingers and scraping off bits of the wallpaper. Anxiously._

_\- I mean they must be somewhere but they kind of ditched me when they couldn't pay for a human baby's needs. - Phil goes on, sounding unsure._

_\- You just made it sound like you're trying to prove to me that you're not actually an alien. - I try to lighten up his mood and, fortunately, he smiles at my comment._

_\- Shit. Well, at least there's no need to hide my secret alien antennas at night, after taking off the wig They gave me to cover them up. - Phil rolls on his side again, scanning my face, and points at his head. I chuckle at the adorable sight of a drunk person gabbling about their nonexistent alien-ness. A first, but a first I never knew I needed._

_\- That wig's really fucking emo, Phil. You should, perhaps, follow the trends a bit more, we're not living in the 2000's anymore, you old-school tosser. – I describe his utterly black quiff, which as I was told earlier, was a fringe just a couple of months ago. Thankfully. I'm unsure whether I could live with someone with an emo fringe, as it would remind me of darker times in my own past._

_\- At least I'm expressing my true self unlike you who-- Phil begins proudly, but a loud noise of someone entering our room shuts him down._

_I take a look at the squeaking door, expecting to see Jack returning back to us but instead there's her. Her._

_That stunning, light-brown skinned girl from earlier. The one at the check-in table, with the camera bag and cool tattoos._

_Apart from before, she isn't carrying a shit ton of bags anymore. Instead, she's standing there, in the doorway, in the same outfit as previously, giving Phil and I frustrated glares._

_Her hair's different but I might be imagining things._

_\- Do you mind.. shutting the hell up? It's past midnight and my roommates and I are kind of trying to sleep but we can hear you two from across the floor. - she speaks to us in a super strong Irish accent, yet making it clear that she doesn't want to be doing this by her intonation. As if someone pressured her to come here._

_\- Yeah, sure. - I whisper, loosing the grip of everything for a second since I'm completely stunned by her. Phil, however, talks over me loudly. He must fail to notice how breathtakingly good looking the pink haired girl is. Sucks to be gay._

_\- No, it's the last day before school starts, don't you think we want to have a little bit of fun? - he complains. - Come on, join us or something, doesn't look like you're in the mood to sleep, either. - the boy, then, suggests in a friendlier tone._

_She stalls, then glances at the half empty bottle of vodka on the floor between our beds, then back to me and Phil, nodding in acceptance._

_Phil applauds and welcomes her inside, asking for her name and at the same time handing her the bottle. She accepts it, taking a seat at the end of my bed._

_I sit up, attempting to sort out my hair quickly - so she doesn't notice - but thankfully, the girl is looking at Phil and Phil only, as if she's ignoring me._

_\- I'm Enya. - is all she says and it's a start of a conversation about the most Irish names Phil has heard since coming to this country. I join in, merely because a part of me wants this fascinating girl, Enya, to start paying attention to me as well._

_About half an hour later, we're already dancing around our room to one of my 'wasted' playlists that I made a summer ago. En - how we began to call her - and Phil both recognize most of the songs on it and they keep on complimenting my taste in music. Some of our clothes get thrown on the floor because it's unbearably hot in the room._

_I lose all of my energy after a while so I lie down on my bed, watching the two jump around the place, laughing hysterically. Cheering me up as it makes me think of my friends and I dancing around like that at a school's dance years ago._

_I, of course, am aware that the cheerfulness arrived because of the liquor poisoning my body and the consequences of smoking weed, but existing around genuine people who are pretty much in the same place as me - young, dumb and reckless – awakes this magnificent, rare feeling of content._

_\- Get the fuck up, Dan, we need you. - En stops dancing, noticing me lying on the mattress, and grabs my hand. So I pull myself up and stand there, watching everything around me like a motion film._

_Because these wonderful people need me. Me. A nobody._

_Seafret's playing from Phil's phone and I begin to scream out the lyrics to the current song's chorus, definitely bothering every asleep student's around peace. En and Phil laugh at me authentically and join in, recognizing the song as well._

_Perhaps it isn't so bad. Perhaps this college will bring more moments like this._

_Time will show._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter's song: dan @ chris
> 
> in this one you learn more about dan's best friend - chris [who btw is in no way related to chris kendall, it's just a random person] and his relationship with him.
> 
> there's also a new character - en !! spoiler - she's going to be a huge part of this story.
> 
> hope you like this book so far and i'd appreciate if you left more of your thoughts in the comments section.


	4. .:. this side of paradise // coyote theory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> september, 2018: [first day, brand new faces]
> 
> [a panic attack and how to end it]
> 
> [the dock; a less innocent kiss]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !! the first 3 chapters were introduction chapters, which, basically, means the actual story begins now !!
> 
> TW: a detailed panic attack

Because of En's mindless decision of planting that _innocent_ kiss on my cheek, my thoughts of setting an alarm were interrupted last night.

If it weren't for Jack, who stormed into our room at nine, waking up Phil to warn him about a 'Mr. Dickless' wondering about his whereabouts, both of us would have been _extremely_ late to our first day.

Thanks to Jack, we were only a _bit_ late.

Since Phil was stressing about this teacher getting him in trouble, I only had about 20 hungover seconds to get ready; I'll be making an indecent first impression not simply due to wearing a dirty shirt and jeans used for 5 days in a row but also because I, unlike pretty much everyone else, haven't had a tour around the building, meaning it'll take me ages to find the classroom number 256. A classroom where I'm supposed to have _Composition_ \- whatever that is.

The school's website had each course's first week's timetable on it and when I was still at home, I'd look at all the subjects in despair.

In this college, we would have most of the basic subjects, like Maths and English, and the profession-related ones, those students normally look forward to the most. The second includes subjects like _Theory of Colour, History of Culture, Editing, Design Research methods, Lighting_ and so many more I'm scared to be taught.

After getting told I'd have to study at MAC, the easiest decision was definitely choosing which course to take. As soon as I was informed about the Photography educational program, without a double I knew I was signing up for it. Because.

Photography's been significant part of my life for as long as I remember. As a kid, I'd take my uncle's film camera whenever my parents and I were visiting his family in Wales, where the majority of time there I'd spend taking amateurish photographs of my younger cousins, Miles and Harry. Even ten years later, some of the pictures are still on the walls of Harry's bedroom.

Floor 2, schooling area. After crossing a rainbow painted hallway with timber stools places here and there, I find the searched classroom at last, knocking on the door with a 256 on a sign next to it, and cautiously invite myself in afterwards.

A whiffy classroom, filled with around 30 young people, resting on shabby chairs, desks with nothing but a pen on in front of them. Some students appear totally out of place, some are stressed, some - whispering to one another. One thing they all have in common, though, is that they look like they'd rather be _any_ place else this early in the morning.

It's not even _that_ early, for people our age _any_ time is too soon to be up. Except if you're oddly productive and get a good night's sleep to wake up as the sun rises.

A dark haired person, who seems to be the subject's teacher, is sitting behind his desk, scrolling through a Word document on his laptop, murmuring under the nose. Gladly, the middle aged guy with the silliest moustache my eyes have encountered, fails to notice me or my delay.

\- Dan! - I hear En's silvery voice quietly calling my name from the back of the class and a flash of relief, as well as excitement, strikes my body. She _is_ my course mate.

Expecting to see a knackered, hungover person, I turn to where her voice came from but instead, the same charming, pink haired girl is watching me with a pleased grin on her face. No sign of getting hammered the night before.

I tiptoe past some of my course mates filthily, proceeding towards the only semi-familiar face in this room. Because there are no empty chairs left near her, Enya moves slightly to her right, freeing some space on her own chair.

I sit on it, barely covering any of the surface she'd spared for me, and sense the warmth of her body so close to mine, a wave of shivers strikes mine. Our eyes meet for a brief moment and only then I notice that each of her eyes is in a different colour; one's green and the other's brown.

I'm positive this peculiarity is called heterochromia.

\- Clark, Dorothy. Where's Dorothy? – the frightening moustache person calls in a wobbly voice, scanning the room for any movement.

\- Here. Um. Can you, perhaps, call me Dodie, though? No one uses Dorothy on me. - a girl with grunge spectacles right next to us squeals anxiously, in an accent very similar to mine. She's sat there, breathing heavily and pressing her lips together tightly. Nervous, but cute.

I lose my breath as my body twitches out of absolute nothingness, like a switch turned on by accident. Wanting to hold on to something, I clutch onto an edge of the desk we're sharing.

\- What's wrong? – whispering, En grabs me by my shoulder yet I shake my head as a way of saying I'm fine. No need to be concerned.

I attempt to concentrate on our teacher calling out everyone's names, however, my eyes lose focus erratically and heart pounds in my ears like a drum. Skipping a couple of beats occasionally. Worrying me.

Having dozens of strangers around definitely isn't making it any finer.

So I merely sit there, shaking off the unforeseen panic by using the methods I've acquired and mastered throughout my life. Wondering what's caused it.

The first lecture in this school ever I spend uncomfortably tossing on the hard seat and only paying attention to the teacher, Mr Bonks, when he calls my name to which I mumble something hardly understandable in response; think he's asking for a weird fact about myself. Which I ignore to reveal.

Actually, the entire school day goes by with my mind so full of fog, the brains can't tell anything apart. Which feels so heavy, I can't function on my own so En drags me by my hand from one class to another. Assisting.

\- Kind of strange that you get like this when you're in bits. - she repeats over and over again, supposedly assuming this is because of getting fucked up with all that vodka last night.

Whereas about three hours fly by until a thoughtful text message from my mother helps to come to terms with the fact that I had forgotten to take my pills yesterday evening.

**moth(er) [1:54PM]:** Hope you are having a great day! The first session with your new therapist is at 5:30pm next Friday, the 15th, the address and all is in the attachment. Set a reminder and be nice to that sweet man. Remember to take your medicine! Miss you already. Mum.

Truth be told, I can't ever remember the last time I skipped a day. Swallowing this disgusting medication has been something I've acclimated to in the almost ten years of shoving different variations of the same few chemicals down my throat.

I drank; no wonder the sound of the alarm for meds going off was never detected and the thought of acting reasonable slipped by. As my most recent contact with alcohol was months ago and my dose has doubled since, even a day without the pills would leave a negative reaction on my body. Which it, obviously, did.

Certainly, forgetting to take my ADD meds and antidepressants would happen on the day of my opening interactions with these countless, unfamiliar faces. Bet all of my tutors and course mates think I'm an idiot. Not that it's untrue, though.

Once all of our introductory lectures come to an end, with out any discussing En and I head upstairs to room 555, searching for peace.

Instead, what the two of us find is no one other than a shirtless Jack sprawling on Phil's blue and green bed sheets, rubbing his eyes as if he'd just woken up.

As we enter the room, he lifts up his narrow eyes, gazing up at Enya, then to me, and smirks in an _approving_ manner.

\- This is-- I begin but En interrupts me instantly, taking me by surprise.

\- I don't need a man to tell someone what my name is. I can do it myself.

A small introduction later, during which Jack's eyes are glowing in sympathy towards this new person in front of him, I fall down on my bed, sighing deeply, and anxiously go through my tousled curls with fingers cold as ice.

This is how I'm going to be spending the next 10 months here. Miserably resting on this agonizing mattress, waiting for the year to go by quick enough. Is there even a possibility that I'll grow to like this college and decide to stay even longer?

All this obscurity and suspense scare the hell out of me. Anything could happen in the future, whether near or distant. One can't simply prepare for it.

I think of Chris for a second and how badly I yearn for a glimpse of his face. I don't want to stay here longer than I have to. Going back to Berkshire and making up with my - almost - lifelong best friend is a larger priority at this point.

En and Jack talk to one another a lot, trying to draw me in their conversations but I simply can't pull myself together to even utter a couple words. Instead I listen, with my palms covering my eyes in hopes of getting well deserved rest minus actual sleeping.

-.. the first proper day and Phil, my best friend, got detention for delay already. You see, during Course 1, it become a tradition for me to go here after lectures when he's somewhere else, so I even have a spare key. Waiting for his return, I typically take a nap, and once he's back, we go downtown. Or stay here until something more interesting comes up.

\- Phil didn't seem like such a mess last night.

\- What do you mean? Have you met him already?

\- Him and Dan. We completed a bottle of vodka which, I'm afraid, is still on the floor here somewhere. - En sighs disappointingly, probably because she had agreed to waste a night with us. Wouldn't blame her.

\- Speaking of, what's up with this guy? - Jack questions my course mate, allegedly pointing at me and sounding intrigued.

They then discuss my condition briefly, vaguely - after all I am in here with them together-, until the room's door cracks open, my eyes as well, and a panting dark figure rushes in, slamming the door shut behind them.

\- I just ran away from detention. - Phil breathes heavily, with a proud smirk of his face, making everyone in the room chuckle. Even I make up a slight grin.

\- You're being so dramatic, why don't you calm down. - Jack teases the _rebellious_ boy, putting his hands together for a clap. Phil, on the other hand, stalls for a second and then jumps onto Jack, attacking him with his fists like they're boxing.

En, who's been on my bed this whole time, moves closer to me, muttering Dorks to herself. Therefore I decide to sit up, approaching her as well.

\- So. What _is_ up with you? - she asks in a quiet voice so Jack and Phil couldn't hear us, sounding quite.. Concerned? Yes, solicitous.

To be honest, it's hard to recall the last time someone other than my mother has been concerned about me.

With Chris it was different. Being around him meant discussing our inner worlds and listening to one another, no matter what it was we were debating. Around the rest of the humanity, I kept sinking in their oceans of problems that they kept throwing upon me, not even for a second giving a damn about the person - me - who unfailingly was there for them. At all costs.

I decide to not reveal my diagnosis to her. At least not yet, as it would be more reasonable to consider discussing such topics when we know a plenty about each other. That way I could figure out her opinion on mental health problems ahead.

The rest of the afternoon slips away, Jack and Phil sharing and comparing stories about their experiences studying in MAC. At one point, En's shiny hand grabs mine and holds it tightly until my palms, from being nervous of the unpredicted contact, turn sweaty and I carefully untangle our fingers.

Overall, I felt more adequate than in the morning until the one person who had stayed by my side throughout the whole day excused herself and left due to some plans she's arranged with her roommates.

Then it was just Jack, Phil and I.

I quit talking entirely, lying my back on the mattress yet again, hearing how content the two other people in the room are. Which arises guilt, annoyance and even bitterness.

This side of me is upsetting. I can rarely feel happy for someone else due to a lack of genuine emotions and my incomprehensible selfishness. The present Dan is too wrapped up in himself to love somebody, which leads to people typically stepping as far from me as possible. I wish I could love, or at least like someone enough to put them before myself.

I'm the part of the human race that's having trouble acting humane.

\- See you tomorrow.

I sit up and watch Jack step towards the exit backwards, sending Phil ironic air kisses and him receiving them back. He, then, waves at me, nodding his head as a way of saying goodbyes. I copy the short guy's movements.

\- Hope you get better soon. - he mouths, grinning cheekily, before closing the heavy door behind him with a sharp noise.

As soon as the door is closed, Phil swings around to face me, causing me to jump up a little.

\- What's wrong? I mean, this doesn't look like a hangover at all. Did something happen or is this a consistent feeling? Are you okay? - Phil interrogates me with questions too out of nowhere as I'm sat there, back pressed against the wall, blinking my eyes non-stop.

Don't know such thing as a functioning brain anymore. Nothing makes sense.

\- Or is it a hangover? God, I'm sorry to have had no idea alcohol affects you like that, I should've asked, this is my fault. – Phil criticizes himself, showing a thoroughly different side of him. He isn't his happy self that jumps around and jokes; he's perching on the edge of his bed, rambling on about these bizarre concerns while holding his chin by his palms. He appears to be stressed.

\- Not a hangover and certainly not your fault. - I attempt my best to not stutter like it normally occurs when anxiety is being a bitch so an unfamiliar, monotone voice escapes my mouth, sounding a lot like a zombie.

Phil's jaw drops.

\- What is it then? If it's fine to ask. There may be hardly anything we know about each other yet but I care, well, since you're my roommate now and we'll spend time together quite often. If you decide to stay here. - the guy carries on with the distressed statements, responding with words I'd ask him if I were in the right condition to.

My eyes widen from pleasant shock; not to insult anyone but strangers around here are already nicer to me than the lifelong friends I had in England.

Just as I am about to respond with gratitude for this unforeseen form of care, the same feeling that I experienced in Composition this morning flashes my body, invading every cell. Only this time it's much more determined.

My sight becomes blurry and black dotted, a burning hot feeling radiates from my chest to the rest of my stomach, all I can hear is my far too quickly beating heart. I can't breathe - I lose the reflex of filling my lungs with air, which causes me to gasp for it. The dizziness and the heavy fog is back.

I'm having a panic attack.

\- Dan. What's happening? How can I help you? - Phil's modulated voice takes me back to reality for a flying moment.

My eyes flicker over and over again, without a break attempting to get rid of these nauseous, crashing feelings. The habitual self-destroying mechanism turns on; my, on purpose, sharpened nails I press against my skin tightly enough so bits of blood would come out of it.

A cold touch from a pair of dry yet soft hands makes my eyes crack open instantly.

Leisurely - and protectively - Phil detaches my nails from my already damaged wrists and tangles his fingers around both of my hands, not letting me scratch the broken skin any further.

I breathe in and out a couple of times, not even for a millisecond turning away from Phil's eyes. He's on his knees right next to my bed, staring just right back at me, softly massaging my wrists with his thumbs at the same time. I know for a fact that it's what you're supposed to do when you're feeling panicky. Incredible that Phil's heard about it somewhere as well.

\- You're not here on your own, you're safe. – his voice breaks, as if whatever situation he was in when these words he'd spoken before or, perhaps listened to, meant the world to him. You can tell it isn't his first time. - Nothing is going to happen to you, the panic will fade away in a few. So quickly you won't even notice. - Phil talks gently, with a scared undertone in his voice.

The two of us sit on the ground just like that for so long the sky outside the window transforms from twilight to pitch black, each other's faces we can barely see as there's nothing but the light from Phil's charger across the room illuminating them, well, until Phil eventually gets up to 'make a cup of tea'.

Even though I've calmed down almost wholly, _confronted_ by such sweet behavior from my roommate, my heart is still racing and not because of the panic attack I just had.

xxx

_september 14th_

Surprisingly, by the end of my second week spent living in the dorms of an Irish art college, I had already got used to the musty smell of the dormitory's showers, sleeping on the painfully hard surface that I've claimed the bed on the left side of our room, going grocery shopping almost daily and most of all - how the 80 minute long lecture system and some of the school's demands for a healthier mental environment work.

Some things I still can't get used to include being around other human beings at all times, having random guys come to (me and) Phil's room to have a passionate snogging session with him while I'm doing my homework or napping. And most importantly - making friends, supportive friends even, so quickly.

Jack, Phil, En and Dodie are some of the people I've been interacting with in the past two weeks.

Dodie's a course mate of mine, a short brunette with a personality what could be the kindest I've ever encountered. Her sweetness is unstoppable and she's there for those in need, without exceptions. Dodie is also En's roommate so her arrival in my life was inevitable. Speaking of.

En has taken a quite special role in my life. Swiftly, yet richly.

She never lets go of my hand, or neck when the girl chooses to pull me into the millionth embrace of the day; I can't seem to understand whether I fancy all this physical clinginess or not. Never been a fan of unnecessary touching so I blame the minimal discomfort on that.

I must have _some_ feelings for her. Based on a bold personality like hers, how can someone not?

Though, never have I like-liked someone, as far as my mind's advised, so I've had a hard time figuring out the meaning behind those implicit emotions towards her. Perhaps all's happening too fast and I'd prefer it if she'd give me a break. 

For instance, if tonight's hangout En's been planning for just the two of us - that I'm fully convinced is our first date -, would be rescheduled to a less intimidating point in our future.

Because of adjusting to these terrifying accommodations that have very recently entered my new life, little do I want to rush into whatever this whole thing with En could turn out like.

***

When agreeing to meet by the fifth floor's stairway at 7pm, I never figured that, instead, she'd knock on room 555's door half an hour before the planned hangout.

Meaning, I hadn't even put my pants on yet after my afternoon nap. However, somehow the biggest problem weren't the bare legs.

Phil's here, too, and he, as ordinarily, is accompanied by another not-so-heterosexual being. This time the guy's he's making out with name is Anthony.

Imagine a situation in which you're about to go on a date with your somewhat crush, however, you greet them pantless and behind you are two blatant guys letting out disturbing moans and giggles while eating out each other's faces.

Thankfully, we manage to depart from my room before anything spicier happens between them. And quickly, En changes the uncomfortable aura to a lighter one.

\- Let's go to the lough. – she suggests, sneaking her hand into mine. - It's awfully beautiful there, with all the boats that never cast off and the seaweed that annoyingly gets stuck between your toes. We could even search for a special place for us, before the cold comes and we can't meet there anymore. – the wavy haired girl talks in a manner similar to how a poet would express themselves, pleasing my hidden satisfaction for a broad vocabulary, along with sounding like she's had everything planned out in advance.

I nod at her, sort of happily, as she begins to lead me down the stairs. Every few seconds checking if our hands are still intertwined, she bites her lip, blithely ranting about a new album that has just come out. One she adores.

She comes across as elated. Oh what I'd do to see her like this permanently.

Undoubtedly, En's having a wonderful job at hiding her honest, shattered self behind the walls she's hurried to put up. Thanks to some of my alike past methods, I'm able to read her rather clearly yet with the awareness of what this horrific coping mechanism can do to a person, I treat her cautiously.

In a matter of minutes, we arrive at the _glass hall_ , how I've figured all the older students call it. The hall with a board separating it in two, which, as it turns out, you can not erase anything from as long as you don't have the cleansing equipment designed for it.

However, as an odd tradition, the school's staff cleans the glass board at the end of every semester, with the rest of the school gathering around the wall to watch them wipe off the Sharpie marks. The Day of Erasing Mistakes or DEM, they've name the last day of each semester. MAC surely is a unique place.

Pleasantly cool air tickles our skin as soon as we jog outside, still hand in hand. The sun setting hasn't engulfed the brightness, sky's cloudless and light blue, with even a couple of stars visible to the naked eye.

We amble past the same front yard I met Jack for the first time at, heading down a hill towards the nearby lake, which I have by now found out is called Lough Owel.

En ends her emotional monologue about her favourite singer's album only when we've reached the reservoir, stopping right by the water's surface, avoiding to speak a single word. I spot the girl scanning my face from the corner of my eye but pretend to watch another -besides her- beautiful view in front of me.

The lake's surrounded by evergreen woods that never seem to end, a couple sandy beaches among them. A lake, apparently, ample enough for some fisher boats to be swaying on the wet surface not far away from us. En's mentioned seaweed. And if you squint your eyes right enough, you may detect a few marshy islands in distance.

Suddenly, my elbow is grabbed so En could show me to the right, indicating the importance of following her.

In a brief moment, I notice exactly what's our destination.

Perhaps she has planned every step of tonight, she who's always in control of a situation. Perhaps it doesn't bother me, as it clearly shows that's the way she radiates heed and, rather, care.

By the time we arrive at the end of a wooden, slippery dock, the day's reached its end and there's no sign of brightness ever existing in the first place. The world's summoned by a blocking, dark shield, to protect her from harm.

If I were here alone at this time, I wouldn't hesitate to run away, screaming in fear. But Enya is right here, unknowingly calming me down; it's fine.

\- Do you know why I wanted to take you here? - the still-pink haired girl asks as we settle on the quite frosty surface.

I shrug in response, afraid of hearing the answer to the question.

\- Because you and I never happen to be alone. – En reveals unsurely, tapping her fingers against the battens. - Jack, Dodie or Phil are constantly around, making it harder for me to approach you b-but I'd so desperately like to spend more one-on-one time with you. Perhaps then I could get to know the real, instead of the reserved version of you. - she explains in a devoted voice, appearing a bit nervous.

\- We'll have a plenty of time for that. - I drawl the words so my spoken would appear longer but as soon as a frown lands on En's cheeks, I keep on talking. - But I know what you mean, and I'm all up for that. Even from your I'm- _untouchable_ cover, I can tell there's a caring, immensely fascinating person that I'd so like to get to know hiding inside you.

The most loving smile displays on her face so I take the opportunity of her eyes on the horizon to gently wrap my shaking fingers around hers once again, as we disconnected the hands to put them in our coat pocket's, hiding from the mild frost. A modest nudge later, not only En's cheeks are on fire.

When I become aware of the moon glowing in the night sky, memories of all the distant nights wasted by my room's window, stargazing, while getting lost in the relaxing sounds of post rock, pop up. Awaking nostalgia, perhaps, the good sort.

\- I like you a lot, Dan. - En states unexpectedly, shifting her attention to an abandoned boat about three feet from us, the silvery moonlight reflecting on the flawless face of hers. My heart skips a couple of beats.

Although perfectly aware of this sentence ever coming out of her mouth, I freak out, pretending not to.

No one's ever confessed any sort of feelings for me. In fact, I'm convinced not a single person in this world has even attempted to find me fascinating enough to like romantically. Why would anyone, especially someone as out of my league as En, someone who's only known me for less than two weeks.

Perhaps that's why - she's clueless of my sinister personality. It may be complicated for her to distinguish what's right from what's wrong. The confusion I wouldn't wish upon anyone.

\- Are you sure? - I speak, my voice cracking from the suspense. En's gaze goes back on me, she even relocates to close the distance between our hips; my heart's pounding like it never has before. Sensing a hot, tingly feeling in my cheeks and lips, drastically different from what I get during panic attacks,

I feel strangely alive.

\- Pretty sure. - En hints, frightfully near my face, looking down with a wide smile decorating her cheeks. I _accidentally_ look down at her, admittedly, kissable, curved lips, biting mine.

\- That's incredible. Since I _think_ I like you, too. - I utter, more confidently than I actually feel. She chuckles, placing her hand on my cheek, expecting any movement whatsoever.

Not even once have I kissed someone before in my life yet it's what she seems to want me to do.

What do I have to do to make it work, really? Is it done slowly? How long are you supposed to do it for? God, I'm sure my lips are parched. What if something goes wrong? What if I bite her on accident? I'll definitely mess it up.

Supposedly having enough of my silent overthinking, En breaks every bit of distance left between me and her, pressing her warm lips against mine. Fortunately, giving a moment for both of us to adjust to the touch before pulling me closer.

The kissing's strange, like nothing I've experienced before. Such an unusual way to express an emotion.

En takes the lead until I understand how it's done. For the best.

In a second, the girl places her legs each on both sides of my body, wrapping them around my waist to get even closer; she's on my lap, somehow. In all likelihood, not a part of her isn't touching me.

Quickly, I get used to our lips brushing together in sync, like nothing's more important in the moment. Like our surroundings hold no value as long as there's her. Until the sound of a couple of sparrows chirping above us loudly distracts me and suddenly, I'm not so into the odd touch.

Our kiss is over just as my lungs begin to cry from running out of air.

We drift apart, still only centimeters away from each other's face, letting out a relieving chuckle simultaneously. Best to not make it awkward, though, oh how complex it is not to. As if kissing is supposed to be uncomfortable.

There on our dock, I ponder.

About not giving a damn about how well, or not, I performed what my very first kiss was. Discovering that the only thing that counts is seeing the person's you're kissing face glow in utter happiness afterwards.

It makes me happy, too.

***

I hate the dormitory curfew. And all the ladies sniffing around, so mad at the world and, especially, teenagers, preventing any possible terrific outcome to us existing out of our rooms once the clock ticks 10:30pm.

Only a few minutes before the regulation takes place when En and I run upstairs to our floor, holding hands and grinning like little kids just received a new toy they can cheerily add to their collection of dozens alike.

When I attempt to walk En to her room, she demands on returning to mine, which I listen to, knowing her the way I - moderately - do. The girl's convinced that she's consistently right and by far, has been. Who am I to refuse to follow her indications, at least now.

We reach the trashy door to room 555, which Phil and I covered in faded band stickers we dug up in the shelves of a nearby thrift shop last weekend. I linger my fingers on the door knob, wishing to all gods there supposedly are that Phil isn't having sex with anyone in there.

Thankfully, he's just sat on the floor with a phone in his hands, watching a video. Jack's enthusiastic voice's familiar ups and down indicate that, likely, they're coming from a new upload on Phil's best friend's YouTube channel.

Phil pauses the video to shift his eyes to En and I standing in the doorway, paying a little more attention to our tangled fingers. A silence so uncomfortable that En's hand twitches.

\- I'm going back to my room. See you, Dan. – she clears her throat, not necessarily caring to greet my roommate, then turns her head to me to pull me into a tight embrace that she finishes with a kiss, taking me completely by surprise. Bewildered, I don't even respond to the brushing until she gets off me shortly after.

Our hands disconnect, the fulfilling sensation replacing void.

I watch her walk away into the dark corridor, the sound of her heels hitting the ground, echoing from one wall to another, helping me come to a conclusion that she really has abandoned me here.

When En disappears from my range of vision, I step back inside 555 and, without asking for Phil's permission to invade his personal territory, settle on the floor right beside him, the boy who's thrown the phone on his mattress to, as it seems, keep an eye on me.

I touch my lips with a finger, the prickle feeling still on them. The boy on my right puts his hand on my shoulder lightly, making me turn my head towards him.

\- You and her, huh? - Phil glances at me with a small, but fond, grin, removing the hand as he realizes how peculiar the touch was.

I stare back, crept out by the fact that the guy hardly ever blinks yet again.

\- Supposedly. - I shrug, inspecting my arms to find marks from my previous panic attack still visible on the demolished wrists. In a way averting any possible panic attacks in the future, as I'm aware of how painful craving my fingernails so deep into my skin feels.

From then on, Phil and I barely ever call En in her name. Instead, we use _her_ , which makes plenty of sense for both of us as there's not a single girl that my roommate would be interested in. Obviously.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter's song: phil @ dan
> 
> in this part you're vaguely introduced to another character, important in this book in far future - no one other that everyone's adored dodie clark.
> 
> dan and en seems too soon but i'm sharing my own experiences with you all and in real life this kind of stuff happens either really fast or takes forever
> 
> how do you feel about en? what about dan and phil's moment?
> 
> this is going to be such a roller coaster, can't wait for you to read all of it.


	5. .:. don't worry, you will // lovelytheband

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> September, 2017: [a different perspective, a wave of bitter]
> 
> [a song about a 'her']
> 
> [a delicate confession]
> 
> [a friend]

_september 20th_

\- frankly, you could rather date _me_ , en. - dodie utters in her singsong voice, making me roll my eyes at her. as of.

in our little and, thanks to her, nicely decorated dorm room, she pretends to give me good advice on how to deal with what could possibly turn out to be my second relationship.

nicely decorated because, while my other roommate saoirse and i had gone home for the weekend, dodie, with the help of dan and phil, painted our cave's walls in a calm, green tone, put up a set of coolly coloured fairy lights, as well as our this month's freshly printed photographs, taken during class. those are now on the same two opposite walls where the three originally existing book shelves are glued to.

\- full apologies, dodes, but i'm just not that into girls. - i state rationally, stuffing my physics book in an already overflowing purple backpack, which by accident matches the colour of our room's door.

\- it's all about the personali-- my friend starts off but i butt in, aware of what she's about to declare.

\- oh shut up, i like boys. just because dan's being a bit of an idiot, doesn't mean i'll stop trying and _switch_ to others. attractions don't work that way. - i chuckle when i've finished talking, hoping dodie wouldn't take the 'shut up' part seriously but she appears rather upset. what else did i expect of her, really.

\- dan's hurting you and you haven't even been dating for a week. - she announces sentimentally, crossing her arms. i purse my lips together, watching dodie go back to sorting out her eyebrows in her silvery hand mirror right after.

\- that's what boys do, i'm used to it. - i lie, in reality having only the amount of experience as being with someone once before. - and i've told you a billion times that what we're doing is not dating. he doesn't want to rush this since he's never even been in a relationship. besides, no boundaries for now. no jealousy, dan can be with anyone he wants to be with and vice versa. - finishing, i get mildly upset, well aware that at this point i wouldn't choose anyone else over dan, under any circumstances.

whereas i haven't a clue about how willing the other involved person is to be with me.

***

\- where's saoirse? i assumed she'd be here by now. - i inspect the small crowd next to the grey photography studio, unable to spot neither my redhead roommate nor dan, who i automatically search for before, during and after classes, as if his presence gives me a sort of emotional support. which it, somewhat, actually does.

to distract me from wondering about their whereabouts, i inspect my surroundings carefully, so my mind wouldn't decide to fret.

normally, our creep of a photography teacher zig turns up late but today's an exception. he's in the hideously tiny studio already, sorting out a pile of papers our department's head, a guy the students call 'joke' because of his amusing last name, had just brought in. the door's still sealed since the lecture starts in only a couple of minutes and zig would never, ever want to spend an extra moment with our course. all teachers tend to hate the media department.

\- maybe she's been abducted. you never know with her. she might as well be anywhere. - dodie exclaims in an exaggerated voice, giggling a bit. i give her a small smile, striving to threat her nice.

the truth is, i don't fancy dodie that much. though i can see why the whole world adores her for the girl's such _lovable_ personality and cute looks but to me, she's nothing more than an average person who tries a little too hard to be liked. personally, i think people should just be themselves in public, of course, if they don't have serial killer tendencies or anything along the lines.

\- what are you doing tonight? - dodie speaks up, gazing at me dreamily. she, too, sure has an irritating habit of consistently looking like she's in love with the person she's talking to. anyone.

i've even caught her staring at dan the same way.

\- probably just taking a nap or going to the lough to study. why? - i uncomfortably play with my hair, oblivious of how to communicate without this small talk; hardly ever am i alone with dodie and spending time with her today's been a handful already. either dan, saoirse, jack or phil are consistently around, focused on the exasperating brunette so i wouldn't have to, in addiction helping to hide behind my walls even better.

my walls, these barriers that my life is built on. ones my restraint invented after fetching trust issues. to me, opening up is never easy and it's doubtful i'll ever manage to do it again in the future. because of finding nobody i'd trust that much yet.

however, whenever i'm with dan, i taste a connection to him in a cosmic way, almost as if he's the only person that gets me without having to say a word.

\- we could hang out, get to know each other more. - my roommate suggests, quite happily. - there's this small vegan café by the river that caught my eye the other day. - she reveals. i curl my lip in response, hoping she wouldn't notice it. going to a vegan cafe sounds awesome to me, but with _her_?

\- i don't know yet. - i utter almost inaudibly, distracted by a familiar pair making their way towards us.

\- ..only three lectures today so i'll be in our room at 1:30pm. kind of want some snacks, though, can we go to tesco beforehand? - dan's eyes are on the person on his right, phil, strolling the hallway so confidently; they're approaching the place where dodie and i stand, unknowingly.

a warm, concluding feeling strikes my chest as i detect dan's face light up once his head's turned into my direction, meeting my eyes. unable to help it, i smile back, impatiently waiting for him to get closer.

which he manages to quickly by speeding up his pace. in acknowledgment, dodie moves aside and i. i take a small step forward, once the boy's just within reach of me.

\- hi. - dan exhales, rather than greeting me perkily. - you seem quite happy. - he grins even brighter, still shyly.

as this awfully timid boy's so reluctant to make the first move, ever so fearful of what could befall, i put my arms around him, pulling him into a firm embrace, and whisper _because of you_ into his chest, since he's so tall it's complicated for me to reach his ear. besides, this way i can hear the ups and downs of dan's heartbeat.

i wince for having a brain so cheesy, however, dan doesn't seem to mind as he hugs me back tighter. then, moves back a little. to kiss my hair.

my heart's prepared to explode.

\- hets make me sick. don't you agree, doe? - phil's grating voice near us disturbs my peace and dan pulls away from the hug thoroughly, glancing at the speaker while phil performs a sarcastically disgusted grimace at my roommate.

for what dan chuckles, punching his roommate's shoulder lightly. phil, on the other hand, responds to it with a shy smirk, staring down at his toes.

i groan in my head loudly. _he has to stop acting this loud around dan._

what's obvious to all, even to dan, i assume, is that phil fancies _him_. failing to notice that, - how do i put this -, dan is not even _faintly_ interested, he doesn't end this stupid crush on my somewhat boyfriend.

i like phil, the annoyingly awesome person he undoubtedly is, but the bitterness i so feared to experience but still go through because of his feelings bugs me, causing me to hate his existence to a low key degree. how i wish dan would've been sorted into living with a different person. anyone but someone so tenaciously influential.

\- if i don't go to editing now, i might miss out on dickless calling my name again. see you after school, daniel. - phil teases his roommate by using his full name, already making his way to the end of the hallway, trotting like a horse and causing every nearby student to dissolve into laughter.

he walked dan here, he didn't even have a class close by. how inconspicuous.

as soon as phil disappears behind the corner, putting an end to his act, a tall redhead, dressed in a mini skirt and a red jacket, appears where dan's roommate had just vanished. the sound of her heels smashing the ground echoes through the entire floor.

gracefully, with everyone's eyes on her, she approaches us.

\- sorry i'm late, the queue at the coffee shop was too long. - saoirse's voice breaks the tension in the air as she passes cups of coffee to dodie, then to her friend and our course mate - gray.

i breathe out in relief. how wonderful to have my other, more endurable roommate around.

***

dodie and i are in the crowded, black and white themed cafe for only a couple of minutes but i've already eavesdropped on four different conversations about meat eaters vs. vegans. truly fascinating how it's all my community ever talks about in places specialized for us.

after a while of waiting in the queue and a few of dodie's excited _look at that's_ , a sweet girl in her twenties leads us to the only unreserved table, at the back of the room. a round table situated by a greasy, antique window, through which you can see the by car headlamp illuminated, almost empty streets of mullingar.

we sit down silently, both of us too occupied with absorbing this place's aura to utter a word. despite the stuffed room and thanks to all these groups of vegans emitting delight, its ambiance's somehow calming.

i break the silence between us by starting a conversation about our photography homework, one where we're supposed to create a 10 photo set which tells a story about a song of our choice, using the rule of thirds technique.

\- i was thinking of taking one of my own songs for inspiration, that way i wouldn't accidentally choose someone else's picked one. plus it's more unique. - dodie puts a strand of her wavy hair behind her ear, staring at the carafe of water in the middle of our round coffee table.

\- which song? - i ask, aware of some of them as saoirse and i have been forced to listen to her play the ukulele and sing since moving into our dorm room. though i only mind it when a good night's sleep is needed.

dodie, believe it or not, has an incredible singing voice and as much as i hate to admit it, she's insanely talented at everything associated with music. she has an active youtube channel on which she posts rather neat and aesthetic covers, as well, but they hardly have any listeners.

if i think about it, the only person from my group of mac friends who doesn't have a channel is dan. even i have one for the spontaneous video edits i sometimes make when i'm bored or get sudden inspiration from the tv shows i watch, or bands i listen to. the fangirl that i am.

\- been pondering about _she_. do you, perhaps, want to see the lyrics? - dodie suggests, already grabbing her _kanken_ backpack by one hand. when i hesitate to reply, she stops and i watch the bag lightly swing in the air.

\- sure. - i give her a welcome glance, sensing an evocative fear; i'm reminded by a specific person once giving me the lyrics of a song they had written, afterwards turning out to be about their feelings for me.

kerry, a friend of mine whom i met only about a year ago when they moved to my beloved hometown - cavan - was someone who completely changed my view on lgbtq+ people. without them i would've most likely never got over the old, disgusting homophobic and transphobic side of me. i wouldn't even have talked to phil in the first place and definitely wouldn't be ok with dodie being my roommate, as she's bisexual. thankfully, i dislike her for other reasons.

she hands me a blue washed-out notebook, coated in shiny stickers. one seen hanging around our room before, not a single time paying much attention to it.

i place it in my hands carefully, feeling like i've touched someone else's entire written biography.

\- open it up. _she_ 's on the second page. - dodie nods encouragingly, staring down at me with an unreadable face. i flip the book open in an unhurried manner; dodie's uneven scrawl is all over the yellowish pages, meeting the spirit of the notebook's meaning.

_am i allowed to look at her like that?_

_could it be wrong when she's just so nice to look at?_

_she smells like lemon grass and sleep_

_she tastes like apple juice and peach_

_you would find her in a polaroid picture_

_and she means everything to me_

i've heard her play this song before at least a couple times, which explains why the upcoming lyrics are stuck in my head and they, without a doubt, remind me of times i believed to have fallen for a person, assuming the crush wasn't straight. even when they had confessed to me that, for a fact, they're not specifically a girl or a boy. 

_i'd never tell_

__

_no, i'd never say a word_

__

_and oh it aches_

__

_but it feels oddly good to hurt_

a set of vibrations coming from my phone distracts me and i put dodie's book of songs on the table, reaching for wherever the device i'm addicted to is. not even glancing at the girl sitting right next to me, already aware of how disappointed she is in me for using my phone in public again.

_snapchat from dan :')_

__

_snapchat from dan :')_

__

_mac's mdph11 from dan :')_

i click on the app enthusiastically as dan barely ever sends me any snaps and well, because they're from a person i like. an unwritten rule that the notifications from your crush are the first you look at.

after a tap, appears a video of a phone's flashlight hitting dan's face while he's sitting on the window sill of the graffiti place where dodie, dan, jack, phil and i sometimes hang around at. dan's chuckling at some silenced words coming out of phil's mouth on the other side of the camera; he's visibly high.

i frown at the thought of dan and phil hanging out again, anxiously awaiting the next message to load.

this snap is from dan's point of view, he's taken a picture of jack and phil laughing while their hips are pressed together gracefully, biting each end of a joint, with a caption _i ship it_.

\- maybe you shou-- dodie's voice disturbs me from my inner carousel of feelings as i pout my lips in annoyance.

\- it's fine. let's just wait for our food. the song's pretty good by the way. - i declare, someplace else in my thoughts.

more specifically, i could be with dan right now, doing anything other than depressingly spending time with dodie, who, in fact, is becoming more and more upset by every passing second, draining my mood, too.

what seems like a forever passes until the lovely lady from before brings us our falafel burgers and sweet potato fries. when we're blessed with what could be my favourite, i don't even take a bite of the delicious meal.

this happens every time. i get madly jealous over the smallest incidents occurring to people i'm interested in, when i don't have an excuse to - not that bitterness is needed in general. dan is plainly hanging out and getting high with his friends, there's nothing more to it, just his mechanism of distraction from unneeded and depressing thoughts, as he's mentioned before. absolutely harmless.

i put a few of the potato sticks in my mouth, chewing on them while inspecting our soothing surroundings again, ignoring dodie's concerned staring.

taking everything in me to restrain from picking the device up when the cracked screen of my phone turns on again, i freeze with a fry still hanging off my mouth. when the reasonable part of my brains smothers the urge, i grin.

holding back a desire is never an easy thing for a human to do as the privileged part of the society is too dependent on owning more than we need, somehow still longing for more.

during my moment of self-pride, i even express my opinion on the food to dodie.

until, of course, the phone goes off again and my hand automatically stretches out for the device. to tap on another video snap from dan.

someone, or dan, based on the curls, is walking up the stairs and phil's filming again, asking him to turn around for the camera. _or don't because your butt's looking fine_ , he admits and zooms in on dan's pants. they all then chuckle and phil's filming the stairs as camera's shaking along with the soft laughter. i catch dan letting out a quiet _don't send it to her before the video ends_.

frozen in confusion, i stare at the screen. don't send it to _her_. to me.

after setting my phone on silent and putting it down on the table between my and dodie's dishes, my eyes water up.

certainly not a very pleasant feeling, feeling unneeded by the only person that means something to me at this point in my life. if truth be told, dan, even with the weed kicked in can control his actions, his spoken, yet he, regardless of his abilities, might have _chosen_ to hurt me.

otherwise why would the boy press send after affirming that i shouldn't see it.

\- i'll leave for a moment, to get some fresh air. - i utter in a monotone voice and stand up immediately, with my body swaying, unprepared for the abrupt move. something in me commands to bring the damned phone along and i follow the impulse.

making my way from the back of the cafe to the entry passes by like a dream, or a nightmare, - i can't understand where am i. disoriented, out of control of my actions; oh how weak these struggles make a person contrarily powerful.

as soon as i push the door open with my shoulder, my feet lead me behind the nearest corner. to, undisturbed and free from the observational eyes of others, let the opening tears run down my face, salting its bruises.

i am overreacting, typically for me. been told that too regularly to count.

what i need is conviction that my assumption of dan dreading for his fling partner to hear his roommate's stupid joke about the boy's bum, is obviously an unnecessary thing to freak out about. the joke in no way _exposes_ what exactly their friendship's about, it's simply for a laugh.

at how desperate i am to prove my slight paranoia wrong, i break down even more, sliding down the cold wall of the building i've pressed my back against and covering my dripping cheeks with my pair of palms. how embarrassing.

right before i hit the ground, tiny yet vigorous arms wrap around my waist and pick me up, pulling my body close to theirs. into an embrace.

not even trying to escape the hug, i put my head on the person's shoulder to sob more intensely. because rare expressions of sadness imply that when the misery leaks, the involved human being will meet a tidal wave, instead of a hoped drizzle.

\- take as long as you need. - i shiver from the sound of dodie's voice whispering into my ear. of course it's her. not like a stranger would come up to me to comfort me.

however, you never know with irish people; we're very friendly.

dodie and i remain in one another's arms for a couple of painfully long minutes, until i remove my head off of her shoulder and step back to be a little further from her as we speak.

\- your phone's got a new notification. do you want me to read it for you? - my roommate questions in a calm, hushed voice, pointing down at my phone, and i nod. delicately, she unwraps my stiff fingers from the device and unblocks it, knowing my passcode for some reason.

\- there's a message from dan on your snapchat. - dodie informs, clearing her throat. - says _don't mind my last snap philly accidentally sent it to you too_. - she finishes off confused.

not knowing how to react, i let out a laugh at the fact that dan has used the one nickname that phil particularly despises. surely comprehending the most effective way to clear suspense air.

so he _is_ in control of his behavior, even when stoned.

\- want to talk about it? - dodie suggests, positioning her fingers around one of my wrists to ensure it is alright to.

after wondering whether to pick between troubling someone with my nonsense or keeping it to myself, i decide to shrug.

\- whatever you feel more comfortable with. we could talk. or head back inside to discuss something that doesn't involve _danny_. - the brunette's suggestion ends with a smile, followed by an awkward attempt of adjusting her barely profitable, grunge-looking spectacles. i grin right back at her, aware of her intended reference and mumble about going back inside.

in the following hours, before the cafe shuts and our curfew comes scarily closer, we talk.

dodie and i have a functional conversation, and i enjoy every part of it. we discuss photography, her passion for music, my missed friend kerry, veganism and all things mac. i linger on a single thought - how i've been missing out on spending time with this curious girl.

by the end of the night, i convinced myself of holding no grudges against dodie, not anymore.

xxx

_september 29th_

From my therapist's appointment I withdraw fifteen minutes before our session's previously arranged end.

I never do that. Therapy costs a lot of my mother's already hardly existing money, making it a waste to turn up late or take off before arranged duration's over. However, leaving before the end is what a person should do when the appointment causes them to have a panic attack so severe that not even the person who's supposed to cure their mental state can help with.

The waiting room, where I'm currently contemplating my inconveniences, is empty of people but stuffed with comfortable sofas, over the top colourful armchairs, shelves overflowing with boringly designed books and board games I hadn't seen around in forever. Mesmerizing.

By the exit door, I step out of my borrowed plush rabbit slippers, which had been the only remaining option of slippers when I materialized in this immature looking private clinic earlier. I have no regrets though, they are _so_ soft.

Pulling on my black sneakers and leather jacket, which En desperately hates because it's _literal animal skin_ , is not that simple while having a stress relief ball in one of my hands. I throw it across the lounge, being slightly surprised that it doesn't hit and break anything like it typically happens when I put my hands on something. Anything.

My way back to the dorms includes a stop at the local grocery store, picking up a few unhealthy snacks for my roommate and I, and having a minor breakdown over how awkward I am. I won't ever be able to act normal around cashiers, my peers or anyone in general, it seems.

_Because you're a mistake_ , I say to myself, hitting some innocent pebbles on the pavement as I walk, paying attention to where they fall down so I could keep on knocking the same ones repeatedly. I stop after accidentally running into a hip guy due to looking at the ground instead of where I'm headed.

Such a descriptive metaphor for my life, really. I begin to follow a tenet just to give up on it as soon as the smallest struggle comes in my way. If a hippie can be considered a struggle.

Since my legs are so long and I could calmly walk any distance quicker than a shorter person hurrying, it doesn't take me long to arrive at MAC's entrance. Long legs - convenient at times. Uncomfortable, always.

Opening the heavy main door gives me even more trouble as I didn't bring my backpack with me, also forgetting to take a plastic bag at the store so the food's in my hands.

In desperation I wait for someone to open it up for me, meanwhile cussing at myself for being such a dumbass.

\- Dan, you're back already! How was the stand up comedy event? Did you have fun? - I'm drawn back to reality when Saoirse, one of En's roommates, appears in the doorway and digs her fingers into my hips as a welcome, making me swear from the unexpected pain.

\- Thanks for that, Sao. - I roll my eyes at her, using the nickname she was given when Phil and I kept pronouncing her name wrong. - Would you mind leaving the door open so I can get inside, please? - I continue, still struggling with the groceries.

The girl steps aside from the door she just walked out of, placing her suitcase against the entry, and crosses her arms.

\- What's up? Did something happen at the gig? - she questions me, concerned, and I make out a small smile to cover up the what could be a distressed grimace decorating my face.

\- It's fine, a drunk guy just spilled his drink on me and I had to walk back here uncomfortably. - I lie even more, surprised at how well I can make up an absolutely dishonest story. Starting with the fact that no one from my group of friends knows I'm actually going to therapy every week, not some stupid stand up event.

My mental health condition is something I tend to avoid discussing with others, although I've been told it's what incredibly benefits people who aren't necessarily emotionally stable. I'm enough of a burden even besides that, so why bother?

Fortunately, after yet another small talk with En's roommate, she lets me go inside and disappears into the nothingness that is outside. Based on the luggage, heading home for the weekend.

I stroll across the hall to the stairs, passing the three toilets and the glass wall.

Speaking of the toilets, which oddly fascinate me, there are three - for boys, for girls and for _who the f*ck cares_ as it informs on the door. En uses the third one, honoring one of her non binary friends who had committed suicide not that long ago. She's incredibly sweet.

In a second, I'm faced with the hardest part of living in this college's dorms, what's been a challenge since the day I arrived in Mullingar - walking up the stairs to our floor. Even as a person the opposite of fit, you'd think I'd have got used to it by now, but you're wrong. The height's a nightmare every time, especially now with the groceries.

By the time I set foot on the fifth storey's floor, my legs are aching to get some rest but I continue the wearing way to our room, determined. As I approach the place, I open the door without thinking of knocking like Phil's advised me to and walk inside carelessly, only caring about pressing my back against my bed, at last.

Except, when my eyes meet a random guy's naked crotch, I drop the snacks on the floor in shock.

A moment of silence in which a shirtless Phil, an unprepared me and the naked dude are sharing glances with each other destroys the previous atmosphere in the room. Phil shakes his head rapidly, apparently hoping this isn't real, yet picks up the guy's clothes and hands the pile to him by ruthlessly punching him in his naked part with it. He then inaudibly makes the word _Leave_ with his mouth. The groceries keep on laying on the hard floor.

Once flumping on my mattress, I remove my sneakers, choosing to just lie down and pretend like I hadn't seen anything as the guy clumsily exits our room, the door slamming shut behind him. Leaving Phil and I in absolute silence.

I'm thankful it wasn't Phil's dick I saw.

\- You're early. Weren't you supposed to be here after 8pm? - Phil states, his voice cracking. I turn on my side, placing my palms beneath my left cheek, and watch him put on his shirt over his head while facing his wall.

\- I had to leave early. Sorry I didn't text you a warning, been trying to avoid my phone since the Snapchat thing last week. - I attempt to sound calm when in my head I'm sort of freaking out about seeing someone's dick when it was in none of my intentions.

Even when I go to public toilets, I tend to stay away from the urinals as I'm not that keen on my crotch being stared at like an exhibit.

\- Again, I'm sorry about that. I wouldn't have thought you had her saved as _outer bellybutton_. I mean, come--

\- We've been through this, it's fine, Phil. It's more of a lesson learnt for me. For example, to change her name into something that everyone would know is her. - I interrupt him, not being in the mood for another unnecessary argument, like the one Phil and I had when Dodie gave me shit about hurting En last Thursday.

Personally, I didn't see it as a thing to freak out over but if it hurt En, then, supposedly, it wasn't okay. Despite of not wanting to cause the girl any pain, ever, I'm afraid some wounds would surface sooner or later anyways.

There's always pain and there's always sorrow, you can't escape it in any kind of relationship. You simply can't share the exact same mind with anyone else, even if you two set the expectations.

\- So, where were you? - Phil clears his throat, helping me realize that I've been staring at him restlessly this whole time. Shaking my head, I shift my gaze to a poster of the actor Dylan O'Brien on the ceiling above me. Phil put the picture up there weeks ago, when he noticed my obsession with getting lost in my thoughts while looking at the ceiling. _Why don't you look at this beautiful man instead?_ he proposed at the time.

\- You know, the stand up comedy event at Con's. - I mutter, unsure if Dylan O'Brien really is a beautiful man like Phil had stated. For my standarts, being questionably straight, I suppose he is. Truly.

\- Dan, do you really think I believe that you would like to go to a pub alone on a Friday night to watch a miserable middle age guy get humiliated for his awful jokes? Third week in a row? - Phil attacks me savagely, disturbing my carousel of thoughts. Biting my lip, I struggle with coming up with an answer that would make sense to him as this doesn't.

This guy consistently knows when something's wrong with me; guess he either somewhat gets me, sees through my dishonesty or has a good logical knowledge.

\- If you don't confess, I'll just keep on assuming that you go to an alcohol addiction support group like deep down I do. - Phil continues rather having a laugh, not giving me much time to respond so I sigh.

After all, he is my roommate and the closest person to me at this point, perhaps I should talk all things my mental state through with him. _Closest person to me_. 

Many would expect me to claim that En is but, frankly, I'm not near as verbally honest with her as I am during these serious conversations with Phil we tend to put forward frequently.

\- How do you feel about mental health disorders? Do you believe they're not made up? That a person with mental problems isn't automatically what they call crazy? - I breathe out, my voice shaking a plenty and eyes shut, so I couldn't see the expression on Phil's face after popping the question.

After on and off therapy for around 8 years, I've dealt with a great deal of different reactions to these questions back in my two previous schools. One of which I left because of my so unkind classmates.

Some would be supportive of me and pretend to have improved my psychological state and anger outbursts, but most would never look at me the same way as before. A couple of examples of the second sort bullied me until I found the right crowd for me - Chris and his friends.

In spite of that, Chris was the only person from our group that knew about my condition; that's why we became so close.

A body settles down on the end of my mattress, right next to where my legs are. Phil tickles my toes for a moment, allegedly to attract my attention. So I would open my eyes. For what I, aspiring to get further from him because of the uneasy feeling caused by the tickling, rise up from my sleeping position and move my legs away, now hugging them and having the back of my body pressed against the wall. Phil doesn't move his body at all. Instead, he opens his mouth to speak, looking down at his fingers trembling.

\- From what I've been told, having them is a vicious and an extremely unpleasant thing that some not entirely happy people have to deal with. - Phil voices, visibly mad at something, something I'd like to think represents the upsetting fact that this problems exists. - However, just because I, fortunately, don't know how any of those disorders feel like on my own skin, doesn't imply that those people can't be considered normal. There is no _normal_ , you know. Everyone's just.. _odd_ in their own way and what a person deals with isn't one of their characteristics, which is what you should care about when interacting with a person. In conclusion, people with mental health problems I don't consider any lesser than emotionally healthier humans. - he finishes, feeling more confident by every second passing by as he cautiously shifts his gaze upon me, to watch my reaction.

I, of course, grin like a total idiot at the boy's articulations.

By far, Phil's reaction may be the greatest one I've encountered. So kind, so thoughtful, so perfectly put into sentences that make sense. Perhaps my roommate has an objective opinion on unstable metal health because, as he mentioned, he hasn't struggled with this problem himself.

\- How amazing. Since I wouldn't for the world want _you_ to look down on me. - crossing my arms, I utter nervously. Facing an impatient Phil beside me on the mattress, afraid he wouldn't take what I'm about to say seriously.

\- I want you to know that when I was a kid, I was diagnosed with ADHD, which isn't a term I want to get into but, basically, means that when my medicine isn't working, I'm extremely distracted, easily irritated by tasks I'm given, forget to do everyday things and am overall not a very pleasant person as any tiny detail that doesn't go as I anticipate it to frustrates me. - I take a breath, stroking my temples as I gulp from the anxiety.

What if Phil weren't honest? He, in reality, thinks people like me are mad? He pretended?

According to his hopeful facial expressions, I decide to keep on talking.

\- At the age of 14, my psychiatrist helped me figure out that I have moderate depression as well, which, thankfully, is being treated with cognitive behavioral therapy that I attend when I'm not around every Friday. The same as for ADD, medicine is highly recommended, so in case you were wondering, it's not vitamins I take every night. - finished explaining, I turn my head to the window so Phil couldn't detect my humiliatingly watery eyes and silent gasps for air, caused by my lung failure to breathe properly due to sensing panic.

I dislike discussing my emotions for this reason. Because my careless cover may fool someone, provoke someone to assume that I'm the opposite of an easily-affected person or that oceans of strength are streaming through my whole being. When in truth, I am nothing but a broken string of a dusty guitar who restrains from showing humane feelings. More of an useless object.

Phil mildly pokes me in the shoulder, relocating closer to me.

I quickly blink the tears off my eyes, turning back to the, oh, so sympathetic boy at the same time he reckons it's a well-thought idea to wrap his arms around my waist.

Never prepared when someone pulls me into an embrace, especially considering the lack of knowledge when hugging a new person, I am shocked. You hug everyone in a different way because of the shared level of comfort, your height and weight differences, therefore, the quality of first hugs from a certain person is impossible to predict. Usually they result in awful awkwardness.

However, Phil's hug, with all its extra caress - running fingers across my spine and the ever-changing squeeze, is pleasant and quite long, despite our sitting positions. I put only one of my arms around him, giving him a signal that I'm not thoroughly comfortable with the touching so he pulls away.

\- You're _very_ touchy, Phil. - I proclaim, adding a certain amount of uneasiness to it as I'm rather shaken. For a fact, I hadn't hugged a guy since the final time I met my best friend.

Abruptly, the called boy moves away from where he had snuggled down just moments ago, where his elbow was touching my hip and tickling the skin.

\- Time to stop invading your personal space and go back to my bed, then.

Ever grinning and evidently bantering, Phil resettles on his blue and green covers across the room. With slight disappointment as my mattress falls back into its place, I internally punch myself for letting a single word escape the crack between my lips; I don't necessarily _mind_ him being so close.

\- You're fine, I'm simply not entirely familiar with people touching me as much as you do. Seems like _you_ are comfortable with it, though. - I smirk, recalling all the times when Phil's physically interacted with Jack in his famous teasing manner, plus the guys he keeps bringing into his bed a couple times a week.

Like the naked one from minutes ago. Reminded by him, I look down at the packages of junk food on the room's floor. Should pick those up.

\- What do you mean? - Phil questions, squatting down to the ground to help out as I obey my mind's instruction. Too much food to collect all at once.

\- All these guys coming to our room, you must have tons of friends to be close with. - I continue beaming, this time at my usage of the word _close_. An apprehension of just unintentionally calling Phil a whore crosses my mind and I notice him frown, his dissatisfied face pretty close to mine.

\- None of these _people_ are my friends. - he says in a serious tone, arising from the crouch to put the snacks he'd picked up in the closet where we keep our food. Following his example, I attempt to think of a way to cheer him up from this rapid mood swing. I must have accidentally hit a weak spot. Or plainly been rude, the opposite of how understanding he is to me.

\- I don't mean to sound insensitive but how come you _don't_ have more friends if all you ever do is socialize? - I ask intrusively, most likely worsening the situation. Phil slams the closet's door shut, apologizing quietly as he settles down on his bed again.

\- No attachments, no one gets hurt. A saying I go by most of the time. - my roommate notes, getting underneath the covers but still facing me by the closet.

\- What about Jack? - I question immediately, pleading for an explanation as I'm currently lost and unable to understand this guy.

\- Jack's my best and _only_ friend. Besides, I bet you're aware that even people who hate commitment have someone. - he reveals emotionlessly, staring at the poster above _his_ bed, put up for the same purpose as Dylan's one, as I get comfortable on mine. As return back to my bed, it takes me a second to comprehend what Phil's just divulged.

\- Oh.

\- Crap, Dan, I mean, I guess you're my friend, too. - Phil flips out in realization, his voice changing from careless to distressed in a brief moment. - It's just immensely tough for me to call someone a friend. A me, who's as you just discovered is terrified of commitment.

I get him. Yet the _I guess_ part in my roommate's statement is rather upsetting.

Failing to care about the fact that it's only around 8 in the afternoon, I hide under my black, white and grey duvet. Both Phil and I have undergone an exhausting week.

Because on the last day of each month, the school's staff checks every student's grades, meaning that once the month's coming to an end, our tutors tend to go crazy and give us unnecessary marks for the tasks otherwise unimportant, yet so intricate.

\- No problem with adjusting to your point of view. Just call me your friend if or when you begin to feel like it, it's fine. - I state considerately, smiling at the black haired boy across the room rubbing his eyes, despite of his inability to detect gesture. In fact, his eyes are shut and he, at some point, has turned his back to me, facing the wall.

\- Thanks. Do you mind turning off the lights because I may fall asleep any second now. - Phil mutters under his nose, yawning. - Dickless tore us apart today, we had to edit for _four_ hours without a single break, except for when he lectured us about constantly falling back and handing work in after its due. - he proceeds to rant about his course's experiences with the infamous editing tutor while I, irritatingly sighing, stand back up to please Phil's need of passing out in the dark.

As soon as the way back onto my bed is completed, I let my eyes fall shut, the same as my roommate's. Then move around for as long as needed to stand the hardness of dorm mattresses. They certainly aren't made for human backs.

\- Dan?

\- Mhm. - I groan very sleepily, blindly reaching for a pillow to hug and anticipating Phil's response. Which never comes as he's probably fallen asleep immediately. For that possibility, I don't say anything in case I wake him up.

After a realization that I can't sleep just yet since the alarm for taking my pills will only go off in three hours, I unwillingly replace the soothing pillow with the phone that somehow appeared under my blanket. Not bothering to recall how it got there.

\- You _are_ my friend. - Phil announces in a drowsy voice, causing my body to freeze for a second as I wasn't expecting to hear it. At least not so soon after our conversation.

My pulse increases as the words echo in my mind nosily, not giving me a break. In a while I begin to think that my friend's spoken I had only imagined.

Not long after, I fall asleep with my heart still beating quickly, only to be woken up by my alarm hours later to swallow my medication and stare. Stare at Phil's silhouette across the room, pondering what he's currently dreaming of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter's song: dan @ en
> 
> the pov change at the beginning might've confused you this time but in the future you'll know when it reoccurs. [the writing manner modifies to no caps so you can tell the difference easier]. povs i'm going to change so you would get to know the other characters', other than biased dan's, feelings about this book's happenings.
> 
> \+ did you notice that when danen met before lectures, dan didn't say that en looks good, like people usually do when they see someone; instead he told her 'you seem happy' :')
> 
> this one also includes a lot or parallels between en's and dan's minds, so if you paid a lot of attention, you may have noticed that.
> 
> hope you're having/had an incredible day and don't forget to take care of yourself


	6. .:. i'm sorry i'm trying // nothing, nowhere.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> October, 2017: [a game or two, the thoughts while water is dripping on your skin]
> 
> [an apology, one needed but never kept]
> 
> [a talent no one had any idea they had]
> 
> [a glance in the wrong direction, another night talk, becoming a habit]

_october 9th_

On one of the final predicted hot days of 2017, I realized what exactly is the unclear void in my heart, what I'd been missing this whole month spent in Ireland.

Acting. Being on stage, where I don't care at all about how or who I am. Interacting with an audience through a character's personality, instead of speaking to them directly, in that way destroying the link between my role and I.

For an introvert like me, theater is without a doubt a strange hobby yet one that feeds my soul almost as much as photography.

Clear as day, I still remember my very first psychiatrist's suggestion to pick it up. 9 years old, when my mother figured that her son being away three evenings a week would be a good distraction from his parents' divorce.

But it meant more than that to me.

In Berkshire's amateur children theater I found a home, as well as 12 unutterably kind humans who guided me through my early teenage years as I grew as a person. People from the drama club – my tutor and the fellow young actors – couldn't even recognize me outside the classes; the actor side of me and the outcast one were two completely different boys, especially emotionally. For that reason they avoided becoming friends with me.

Another thing I never expected to happen is my mother, on no occasion, calling or even sending a message to check in on me. At least, not since day one, after arriving here. She hasn't even opened the three week old messages I sent her informing that she could call me for free on WhatsApp, when necessary.

Must be too engaged in admiring her life without the burden of a son in it.

I sigh as the sound of my alarm goes off, continuing to move a pair of entangled legs around the bed in annoyance.

Here comes the complicated part - opening my eyes to start a new day. Something that people with depression, people like _me_ , struggle with immensely. An important deal which can affect the upcoming hours spent awake if you don't do it soon enough and an assumption of being a failure of a human visits your mind.

Yet today I'm up earlier, as our room's window is on the East side and I'm occasionally woken up from the sunshine hitting the walls, even before any of our alarms go off. But because the days are getting shorter and shorter with autumn taking over the land, soon we'll be waking up in the dark, with no sun being a guest.

Just when I'm about to place my feet on the floor, rubbing my eyes, Phil's voice, full of enthusiasm, hits my eardrums.

\- Don't bother, _she_ came in last night, after you passed out wrapping up that project. Your Photoshop tutor has the flu so you only have Chemistry today. - the boy informs, tapping his fingers against the surface of our desk impatiently.

No Photoshop classes. On the day I hate the thought of going to school.

Truly convenient of Ms. Linds, that prick of a teacher, to get ill.

\- This might be the best thing to wake up to. Thank you and goodnight. - I return to my sleeping position happily, shutting my eyes with a grin so wide decorating my cheeks.

In a moment, however, my peace is disturbed by a soft, unfamiliar object landing on my face with a _poof_. Instantly, my eyes crack wide open, Phil's green polyester pillow shielding my sight.

\- I am not allowing you fall asleep again, you made me promise to punch you violently if your project isn't finished by noon. - Phil squeals in a complaining manner and I throw his cushion back across the room, hopefully hitting the boy.

\- You're right. I should probably get up. - grunting, I utter after a moment of going through Phil's words in my head. I never got around to finishing it yesterday and because today's the deadline, Zig would get pissed at me for not handing it in. He loathes me for periodically being late, already.

A hesitant _mhm_ comes out of my friend's lips and I glance at where the sound radiated to me from.

That odd boy has his head buried in his laptop; he's sat by our desk and is passionlessly staring at two animated guys fucking in a cabin on full screen.

\- What the fuck are you doing? – I question wryly, ending up laughing at how my voice raises due to the absolute confusion.

\- What does it look like? - Phil plays dumb. - Looking for inspiration for my video project, obviously. - he never looks away from the screen, focused on what's happening on it. I let out a small chuckle at this iconic view of Phil in his blue onesie, eating cereal from a pink plastic bowl and pressing tabs on his keyboard, scenery changing on the screen.

By now, I had realized what it is he's doing.

\- By playing a video game that features _gay_ porn? - I scoff, stretching my arms in the air and accidentally hitting the window sill. Phil's evidently too busy studying the screen to even notice my loud _fuck_ as I massage the pain out of my arms.

\- Well, yeah. We're supposed to connect screen recordings to filmed shots and I've decided on making a game play, similar to the ones Jack posts on his channel. - the dark haired boy explains himself, quite offended at how I had emphasized the word _gay_ insultingly. The grin I still had on my face after laughing fades; I never intended to make Phil feel bad.

\- You mean a 10 minute video of you sat down on a chair, playing a game? That's boring, Phil. - I try to clear the air by changing the subject and Phil turns around in the -for someone else unneeded- swivel chair we had taken from the front yard of a house near the school's stadium last weekend, grinning from ear to ear at my words.

\- I'll make sure Jack hears this. - he winks at me. - What else would your bright mind suggest? - he's staring at me without a break which leaves me feeling slightly uncomfortable of my possible double chin so I pull my blanket over half of my face.

\- Dunno. - I'm too distracted to think of an answer so Phil faces his laptop again, with an easily readable _That's what I thought_ on his tired face.

Sighing at the awkward silence in our room, I make a staring competition with Dylan O'Brien above me until, in a moment, rising up from my bed lazily. Doubtful I'll be able to get any more sleep now.

I slip into some crumpled black socks I find on the dusty floor and exit our room, grabbing the first towel on the pile of my clothes, my lavender shampoo and some comfortable pants from our mess of a closet beforehand. No need to look aesthetic just yet.

The corridor from room 555 to the showers is rather busy but I can't care less about it as my only desire is to burn my skin with warm water in hopes of the low pressure shower flow washing away my sweat. Because before waking up, I'd had yet another nightmare.

A nightmare of me arriving home, in Berkshire, and facing Chris right next to my apartment's door, his appearance incredibly modified. After telling me that he wants me dead for my betrayal and stabbing a knife into my stomach, he had turned into Theo and thrown me out of my bedroom's window.

What a mess my subconscious brain is.

I reach the showers and press an ear to one of the eight doors; thankfully I can't hear water running behind it so I open it up, meeting a small navy blue tiled space which only has a showerhead and a wooden bench, on which I put down my clothes as I undress, in it.

As soon as the rather murky water touches my skin, I, shutting my eyes, run fingers through the curls on my head, my mouth ajar in the meantime. The act of slowly moving my skull up to face the ceiling of the shower stall, gives me a flash of a memory from November, 2016.

~

_\- Pass me a normal towel or I'll fucking kill you. I'm freezing in here. - my best friend's voice is somewhat muted as he's shouting at me through my apartment's sound isolating bathroom. I keep on playing our Sims4 household, making one of our characters go on a date to a park with his hopefully soon-to-be girlfriend until Chris screams my name in annoyance again._

_\- What if I don't? - I shout back in a teasing manner, wincing at the words let out by accident. Instantly regretting what I've just said, I stand up from the cosy position I'd been in while resting on my bed to approach my real dad's inherited cupboard to look for a normal towel._

_The towel I'm searching for, the one Chris had given me on my 16th birthday - a black one with a white_ howell _printed on it in comic sans, isn't in the first drawer so I remain the rummaging. Determined to give him the exact one._

_The door of my bathroom cracks open and my eyes immediately turn to where the sound comes from, meeting a completely naked dirty blonde haired boy._

_He carelessly rushes to the cupboard I'm standing next to, making me step backwards in shock as Chris takes out one of the drawers from the cupboard; it hits the ground and a bunch of my home clothes, along with the howell towel, explode on my peachy carpet._

_I continue staring as my quite short but - as I've now happened to notice - muscular friend's arms tense up and he takes the towel, one of my worn out shirts, a pair of pants and some underwear, and slowly begins drying the water on his pearl white skin. He glances at me, smirking while taking on the shirt and I look down to my feet, hearing sounds of the Sims characters making out in the background._

_Backwards, I near my bed to flump down on the mattress, turning my head to the laptop's screen to distract myself from the image of my best friend entirely nude of just a few seconds ago. Our character Thomas has just separated his lips from Summer's and is pulling her into an embrace._

_\- The hell, Dan? What have you done, I shipped Tommy with his best friend! - Chris' husky voice shatters the room, his arm brushing against my leg as he falls down right next to me on the mattress. He now has all of his, or mine, clothes on and his face is showing clear disappointment and devastation._

_\- But his best friend's a dude. - is all that leaves my mouth since I'm too distracted by Chris' hand, which he's just placed on my right thigh for no reason at all, to think of anything else._

_\- So what, you homophobic ass? It's a game. - he gives me a judgmental look but I simply shrug, pretending to concentrate on the game now paused, with the Sims soundtrack playing quietly as Chris is trying to come up with a way to redo it. Attempting to not be bothered by the fact that my friend's fingers are smoothly rubbing my thigh, giving unwanted shivers down my spine._

_\- I'm not homophobic. - I utter, moving my legs away from Chris and hugging them to my chest. Disappointingly, he looks down at his hand, which is now just laying on my duvet. He's acting like he's in control of me and I hate it passionately._

_\- Hell you are. Remember when you avoided watching Teen Wolf with me because of that gay dude, Danny. - Chris reminds, sorting out his wet hair and watching me relocate even further away from him. I can't stand staring into his searching greens so I decide it'd be for the best to not look at or be near him at all._

_\- No, I refused to because the show seemed stupid and cliché. - I groan at him, irritated, wishing Chris wouldn't be sleeping over at my house again tonight. Because I can never get any sleep with someone else being in my bed. Especially him._

~

A knock on the door disturbs me from the memory and I realize I must've been daydreaming for too long. Turning off the running water, I grab the towel I'd taken.

Of course, the possibly only towel in the world that hurts someone's - mine, to be exact – feelings, _that_ I've brought; its dark fabric sinks in my palms, drying the drops of water on my skin.

Quickly, I dress up and leave the stall, letting in a seemingly running late person, who cusses me for being inside for 20 minutes. I doubt it was even half that long but art college students are impatient and stressed - it excuses them.

I, myself, am like that. As a matter of fact, I might be the perfect example of a college student. Never handing in homework on time, I procrastinate watching Jack's Netflix, which he kindly gave to me when I was complaining about getting a computer virus from watching my favourite show online. I eat crappy, unhealthy food, except for when En brings us leftovers of her handmade, warm vegan meals. I appear to be a mess to everyone and my clothing style becomes odder every day.

At the click of our room's door opening, Phil turns his head to see who's come to his den, but after appearing faintly let down when he sees _me_ , goes back to his barely touched Word document of some kind.

\- Look, I got an idea while I was showing. - I begin cockily but when Phil pays zero attention to me and has the guts to put on his headphones instead, I near him to punch the back of his head lightly.

\- Okay, okay, I'm listening. - Phil throws his wireless headphones on the stained desk with a smirk on his face, trying to conceal how pissed he, for some reason, is.

\- I could join you. The two of us could play the video game together, perhaps make it a competition? You versus me. - I take a seat on Phil's bed as it's closer to the desk while the boy begins knitting his eyebrows, pondering.

\- Dan versus Phil? - he asks unsurely and I nod, squinting my eyes at his relatively mocking tone. - Are you sure you'd like to embarrass yourself by losing against me every single time? - Phil throws his head back laughing, reminding me of the first time I met him. His words seem offensive whereas the sound of his voice implies the opposite.

I couldn't believe he'd just assumed that I'm bad at video games. That fucker has never even seen my play.

***

Wasn't until when Phil and I had finished filming the video of us playing Phil's favourite game - The Legend of Zelda - and the boy had rushed to his Graphic Design lectures as soon as he became aware of the fact that it's past 12pm and he's late, that I realized to have forgotten to wrap up and hand in my photography project. Thankfully, the delay doesn't bother me _that_ much as a new month has just arrived and I have weeks to get it done before the scholarships are calculated.

An hour left until Chemistry. Here I am in room 555 alone, on the floor between me and Phil's beds, unable to stop thinking about home.

For weeks now all my dreams are about roaming the town I grew up in, stopping to look at anything that catches my eye, no matter how unimportant it is. I miss my mum, just for the sake of missing someone other than Chris because Chris, in fact, is the last person I want to linger my mind on.

Slowly, I've been trying to let him go. Move on, replace the hole he left in my life with someone else. Somehow, I already have a group of people I could fill that hole with. There's En, and then there's Phil, Jack, Dodie.. Still immensely hard to believe that they're friends, my friends. Because just like I'd spent the summer break, I expected to be spending this whole year alone.

An image of En's face appears in my mind unwillingly, awaking a destructive feeling of miserableness. I've been avoiding her during classes, ignoring her messages, not even _thoroughly_ sure why.

Perhaps because of the part of me that's afraid to mess it all up, to say something wrong so I figure it's easier if we don't communicate at all. Or guilt for still struggling to understand whether I _like_ like her or not due to never having any real experience with feelings.

I honestly have no idea what to do with girls, especially girls who like me.

_Step over myself and talk to her_ , I demand in my head, glancing at the phone laying on the ground beside me curiously. In a matter of seconds, take it in my hand to open the WhatsApp chat with her.

**Enya [Sunday, 11:20PM]:** goodnight i hope you die in your sleep xxxx

**Enya [Sunday, 11:43PM]:** seriously where the fuck have you been im back in the dorms and hate u  <3

**Enya [8:12AM]:** morning. since we don't have the first 2 lectures, can we go to the lough pls? i really miss you

**Enya [10:23AM]:** nvm dodie said she heard u and phil were filming something

**Enya [11:58AM]:** phil should be gone by now, where r youuuu

After going through some older texts, I come to terms with the fact that I haven't been responding to her in 4 days. The failure of a human being I am.

Standing up, I throw my phone on the mattress dramatically and head to our closet to look into the mirror inside of it. Facing an exhausted, red face of a boy so messy, both physically and mentally, I sort out my dark fringe and smooth my baggy clothes with my hands.

A look good enough for visiting En.

***

\- No need to, come in. - her appealing voice, coming from the inside of room 505, invites me in. She doesn't know it's me who knocked, at least not until moments after I open the door.

Scanning the room with my eyes I find out that, luckily, it's only En inside. She's sitting on the window sill, head pressed against the glass, reading a white covered book. She doesn't even glance at me, too invested in the literature, until I clear my throat.

Shutting the door behind my back, I step only an inch forward, afraid to go closer to her just yet.

\- Hey. - I mutter, watching her immediately turn her head towards the door, her facial expressions changing from numb to displeased. Guilt kicks in again, despite the fact that I'm well aware she deserves to be mad. Really.

\- I came here to apologize for my behavior. - I say genuinely, watching En place her book called _The Names They Gave Us_ on the sill coated in pillows. A place appearing cosy and reminding me of my mother's old work office, where they have a space by the window alike this one.

The girl dressed in a black skirt, striped socks that go up until her knee and a pink sweater narrows her eyes at me.

\- That's far too formal. An honest _sorry_ is enough. - she claims coldly.

Not necessarily knowing how to respond, I take a couple of more steps towards her. When she doesn't move at all, I make my way to the window sill entirely.

Having no choice but to then relocate to one side of it, she lets me take a seat only inches away from her, sighing. En stares at me with her two coloured, curious eyes. I attempt to ignore how my overly long legs are making me uncomfortable.

\- I'm a mess, I don't know what's wrong with me but I keep ignoring you cause I'm scared of all this, afraid of saying the wrong thing and causing you unnecessary trouble. That - hurting you - the least thing I want to do. - I babble, loathing myself for making everything about me yet again.

What I do best. Everything, everything happening I change so it'd benefit me. To be honest.

\- Never have I experienced.. feelings nor do I have any experience whatsoever with how to handle them. You are my first. Of everything. I am sorry to have been acting so strange. – playing with words, I finish my ramblings.

A bright smile. What materializes on En's face as she slowly reaches out for my trembling hand and takes it in hers, pressing it tightly. Reminding me of the time by the lake. Her lips on mine that one night, a funny feeling in my stomach since.

We haven't kissed after that. I've been too afraid, of the same everything.

\- I would rather have you say the wrong thing than not talk to you at all. - she explains, her voice breaking as she nears the end of the sentence. Her eyes, which were happy just a second ago, are now all watery and filling up with tears.

\- What's wrong, En? - I ask utterly confused as to why she's upset, the usual fog in my mind replacing worry; are my actions really making her cry?

Somehow the innocent words make her sob even more. Uncertain of what I'm supposed to do, I press her hand even tighter and break the already small distance between us by pulling her closer, letting her head rest on my chest. The way she likes it.

\- Before you and Phil, they were the only person that called me in that nickname. - En mutters into my shoulder, her entire body shaking on mine.

She pulls back, grabbing both of my hands so we wouldn't be apart, and stares at the confusion pervading my face. I do my best to go back to a neutral facial expression but she's already lost it and begun to whimper; not that I mind it, I'm merely concerned.

\- You know, Kerry. You two are so similar with words. The last time someone actually apologized to me, they way you just did, was them, shortly before-- En stops, running out of breath and I quickly disconnect one of my hands from hers to open the window.

As soon as she stops gasping for air, En returns to her previous position on my shoulder, this time making sure I can hear her clearly.

\- Actually, I-I've been filling up their voice mail with my sob stories ever since.. ever since they commit-- they passed away. Kerry is, was, the only person I ever trusted, well before they tore my heart apart, when--when I found out they've done _it_ themselves. - by every word that comes out of the girl's mouth, I feel more upset. I shut my eyes, trying to swallow it all down.

Kerry must have meant the world to her. Now that she's revealed this heartbreaking habit she does to, apparently, miss the old friend less, I understand it better.

She's mentioned them a lot in this month of knowing the girl that's having a meltdown on my chest right now, so much and so intensely that, in fact, Kerry's existence in the secretive girl's life is the only significant personal detail I know about her.

\- So sorry, I must be making you feel uneasy, b-but it's hard for me to talk about them without breaking down. - so many tears leaving her eyes that my shirt is soaking wet. But it isn't what's important.

To assure that what I'm about to say is entirely honest, I touch her chin lightly, moving it so the upset girl could face me. Which she does, resulting in her soaking plump cheeks, the crack between her lips widening and narrowing, strands of her usually bouffant hair stuck to her forehead, the green and brown so breathtakingly unrealistic exposed to my eyes.

\- Are you kidding me? It's okay, cry, cry as much as you need to, it's no trouble to me, at all. You're not weak if you do so, in truth, showing your emotions is exceptionally braver. But when you release the fire, keep in mind that extinguishers are needed. Like now. Just, let me know what I can do to clear the fire, what I can do for you. - I say in a dawdling tone, not breaking eye contact as if I'm casting a spell. Hopefully, she doesn't see it that way.

\- Be here. - En utters almost immediately, poking my nose in a playful manner, steadily transforming back to her usual, more cheerful, self. In response, I pull her closer, wishing it could somehow truly make the girl feel better. Although, I can't imagine my embrace being useful to anyone.

With everything happening like it is, I suppose it's better to act out than do absolutely nothing. Act out. Instead of acting, like I've been taught.

\- You really are the best, Dan. - she states after a while of her running her fingers across my chest, leaving traces of goose bumps.

Oh, how I wish she weren't wrong on this.

xxx

_october 12th_ \- bloom // the paper kites

For no reason at all, Jack hits me in the stomach again, building up the frustration inside me, and I yell out in pain, covering the place he'd struck with my hand.

\- You tosser. - I scoff at the green haired guy, rolling around the floor in pain.

Habitually, I'm in my room. Which, occasionally, feels almost as if an actual home to me - most of my time I spend right here, either alone, or accompanied by Jack and Phil. When someone other than my roommate's best friend is visiting Phil, I tend to go outside or hang out with the rest of our friend group. The only times I pull myself together to stop by them.

I look up at the mentioned boy, the black haired loser sat at his laptop with my white headphones on, just to find out he's about to talk to both of us.

\- I'm trying to work here. May I please get some silence? For a good cause? – Phil tilts his head sideways as he speaks, the serious tone in his typically content voice makes Jack and I laugh passionately.

Our friend, however, finds it even more annoying as he throws his headphones on the desk and swings around in his chair to glare down at us.

\- Why are you suddenly so boring? - I point out, bursting into laughter and searching for Jack by moving my legs across the floor. When he shouts _I'm right here_ , I put my feet on where I've heard the sound coming from, donating Jack's nose a pleasant reek.

Feels good. He's been hitting me for the past hour without a break. Deserves a revenge.

\- Boring? At least I'm not high at 3 in the afternoon. - I'm distracted by Phil's attack and Jack manages to get away from my stinky toes, even having the time to react to his best friend's comment with an _oof_.

\- Whatever. - I respond, really giving not a single crap.

When Jack and I get ourselves up from the floor, at last, we go through the desk's Phil's sitting at two drawers, throwing things all around the room to produce a mess. A huger mess, as, earlier, the two of us had scattered the entirety of my wardrobe across the space in hopes of finding my ironic Trump supported shirt.

When we find a deck of cards with severely erotic images on them, Jack squeals in eagerness, descending on his best friend's mattress to begin teaching me some of his favourite card games.

Not to state the obvious, but he sure has a great knowledge in making everything, even card games, kinky. I'm certain the deck is his.

From time to time, Phil gives us truly _terrifying_ deathly glares. We're 'bothering his creative process', not giving him space to express himself, supposedly.

He's been editing the Zelda gaming video him and I filmed on Monday morning for three afternoons now, it isn't room for imagination he's lacking. My roommate's a self-unaware procrastinator, exactly like me.

\- You're doing it all wrong. - Jack complains, helping me to become aware of my staring at the inscrutable boy by the desk. I begin to pay my full attention to the game we're currently playing again just to, in a moment, lay my eyes on Phil again.

\- The video is done, you absolute dickheads. Come check it out or I'm disowning you all. - he speaks up in an appalling American accent, which I'd rather never hear again. Surely Jack neither.

Both the Irish boy and I move our clumsy bodies closer to the screen which Phil has turned so we could face it without struggling. He, then, plugs out his headphones from the laptop, turns up the volume to max and clicks _play_.

The three of us sit straight for the next 7 or so minutes, watching how embarrassingly Phil and I play The Legend of Zelda. Being ourselves, or well, more like the kind that people get when they play exciting video games, but somehow, it's coming off as quite funny.

In the video, Phil wouldn't stop glancing at me to see my reaction to his horribly amusing jokes, that needy for attention, while I, on the other end, keep shouting at the game's happenings, stressed out of my mind. Together, we incredibly fail at this video game that at least Phil should've been great at.

By the time the clip is over, we, including Phil who didn't seem to be in his best mood before, are dead from laughing so much. Not because Jack and I are high. It's genuinely entertaining.

\- You should put it on your YouTube, Phil. It's sick. - I give the boy a small smile, getting a grateful nod and him mouthing _Will do_ in response. He looks down at his keyboard, smiling from ear to ear as he moves the cursor across the laptop's screen impatiently. Whereas I rest my chin in my hands, attempting to hide the grin on my own face.

Crazy how I can smile at the tiniest things when I'm in a good mood, like I am now, because of Barbie. It is immensely complicated for me to give someone an honest smile the rest of the time.

Jack clears his throat, catching me off-guard.

\- The video's pretty awesome, well edited and all, but content-wise--- What's eye catching is the fact that Phil looks like he's in l-- he starts off but when Jack's about to make his point, Phil throws the same pillow he threw at me to wake me up the other day into his best friend's direction abruptly.

\- Shut the hell up, Jack. – I frown at Phil's comment, not necessarily sober enough to understand what's going on.

Perhaps it's a best friend telepathy thing. I've experienced it before. It's legit.

\- But it's true, you do have a somewhat cr-- Jack's smirk can be _heard_ in his penetrating voice. Phil cuts his friend off yet again, looking ready to fight him.

\- Would be for the best if you left, Jack. In all seriousness. Right now, truly don't want to deal with your need to reveal everything on your mind.

With Phil's words, a strong tension fills the silent room, making me feel extremely uneasy. As if the two boys are really having some sort of an inner argument that only I can't identify.

A couple of seconds long staring competition between Jack and Phil later, the green haired guy next to me on the bed bustles up from the surface and starts biting his lip, staring down at the floor.

\- Whatever. I'm supposed to meet Melanie at some point today anyways. - he says, trying his best to sound careless. Jack picks up his horrendously old backpack from beneath my bed and ambles outside the room, leaving the door open behind him. For what Phil's forced to rise up from the chair.

Adamantly, he senses the need to watch Jack make his way through the corridor. In a moment, supposedly when he guy's vanished, he sighs, shuts the door and takes a seat on the edge of his bed. Since I'm still on it, I decide it's for the best to give him more space and move closer to the window.

\- What's up, _Philly_? Why are you so moody? – cheekily, I question out of curiosity as I watch Phil's quite upset face change to a slight smirk when he hears his _beloved_ nickname.

\- I am forgiving you _that_ just because you're high. - he mutters to himself even though the question is directed at me. The exhausted looking boy anxiously taps his fingers against the metallic part of the bed.

I may have smoked a little too much weed with Jack after our classes today but it does not mean I can't tell when a person is in desperate need of personal space.

So before stepping towards my bed and getting lost in the covers, I choose to roll down the white curtain separating our room, fairly disappointed when I get no reaction from Phil to my thoughtful decision. But. Since when do I want him to react to my actions?

A possibility which is too early to tell but, perhaps, maybe, I _might_ somewhat care about the dark haired boy on the other side of the curtain. A very slight. Or not.

What I should do is take a quick nap to get rid of the strange feelings that weed makes my body experience, but I check my phone in hopes of having someone, anyone, text me instead. Because of an addiction. Because I so want humans to pay attention to me.

I take the mentioned phone out of my back pocket to find out it's only a couple of minutes past 5 in the afternoon and I've got messages from 4 different chats on my normally empty WhatsApp, making me quite surprised.

The oldest one is from a course mate of mine, Robert. A blond who's permanently lost, both physically and mentally, unable to find the next class. This one's from 6 hours ago, before we had _Theory of Colours_ and yet again, Robert had attempted to contact me to find out our whereabouts. Poor guy never made it to the lecture for that reason, it seems.

The next texts are from an overly excited En - she's freaking out about the second season's first episode of Riverdale, which, apparently, has just been released on Netflix. Something about a Black Hood and a good looking Jug.

In our course's group chat, there's a whole conversation about a school excursion that some of MAC's first years are going on next week, before the small break at the end of the month. An excursion which should be exciting but I'm so afraid to attend for anxiety related reasons.

The most recent texts, from just a minute ago, are from Phil.

Hastily, I shift my gaze to where the boy's now in a sleeping position, with his laptop on his legs, and notice him suddenly move to his other side, facing the wall.

Over the top curious, I open the hardly ever used chat.

**PhiLip the Roommate [5:11PM]:** Hey. It's kinda strange texting you on here but I'm too tired to talk and want to know now.

**PhiLip the Roommate [5:11PM]:** So, are you really straight?

**PhiLip the Roommate [5:12PM]:** As in, you like girls and just girls?

I look up from my phone again, unprepared for this question. The actor from _Teen Wolf_ and _The Maze Runner_ glares at me like he's mocking me.

Yeah, I am straight - the answer to the text surfaces my mind instantly, as it's what I've worked on as an automatic response. But to be completely honest, some uncertainty about this question has occupied my mind a plenty of times. I can never give a totally truthful answer to it.

Uncertainty about my sexuality. Weed sure opens an odd crack in people's minds, as I would never be thinking about this so calmly.

**Me [5:14PM]:** yeah, of course just girls

Since it doesn't sound a hundred per cent right, I decide to send Phil another text, to which he responds instantly. As well as tosses around in his bed.

**Me [5:14PM]:** i guess.

**PhiLip the Roommate [5:14PM]:** Just making sure. :)

**PhiLip the Roommate [5:15PM]:** I'll take a nap, can you please put something on in about 2 hours to wake me up?

**Me [5:15PM]** is _barbie girl_ good enough?

**PhiLip the Roommate [5:15PM]:** Perfect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter's song: dan @ en
> 
> 2nd part's song: phil @ dan
> 
> check out the spotify playlist of this book, called guilty of devotion. you can stalk all the other songs that are going to be included in the next chapters x
> 
> what do you think of dan's memory from 2016? what about his mother ignoring him and the small, but quite important conversation he had with phil at the end of the chapter?


	7. .:. anxious // ezi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> October, 2017: [not the usual editing class]
> 
> [trip across the country]
> 
> [what would happen if he'd fall, would anyone notice?]
> 
> [he would.]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: suicidal thoughts

_october 19th_

Forest School, the all-boys academy I studied at before, is rather incomparable to MAC.

Here you're allowed to do almost everything that was previously forbidden or unaccepted. Doodling on the sides of your notebooks? Check. Expressing your opinion and being tolerated just like an adult? Check. Using your phone in class? PDA? Lgbtq+ PDA? Check, check, check.

Apart from how the Forest School's dormitory if it had one would be like - you're free, even encouraged to decorate and renovate your room. For instance, our room's walls are coated in messages - everyone who enters 555 is entitled to write anything they wish to over the grey paint. Most student invaded rooms are similar.

We can express ourselves however we want. Something quite difficult to get used to when all your life you've been stuck in the mainstream school system, permitted to do close to zero.

During my introduction lecture of Audio-Visual Editing, which we - as photographers - were supposed to have for some reason, I'm sat staring at an opened and untouched Premiere Pro sequence on the iMac in front of me.

I can't concentrate on neither my new nerd of a teacher nor the task we've been assigned. Both En and Dodie - the only people I talk to from my course - are absent; think they're preparing for the two day excursion our and some other Media Art department's courses, like the first-year video operators and animators, go on after school.

Such an inconvenient time to have an excursion, really, as the little break we're given at the end of the month is in more than a week, they could've arranged it around then. But no.

As I've heard, we'll be staying at a hotel in a forest near the city of Galway (the destination of our trip); a place where, apparently, most of MAC's students, and teachers, have got drunk at. Typical for us.

I'm thrown back into reality when a sudden realization of someone calling me -by the name _Mister_ \- kicks in. When I look up, no one other than the subject's teacher is attempting to attract my attention by hitting his hands against my desk periodically. I shake my head and mutter a _Sorry_.

\- It's fine. Just show me what you've got. - the faded purple haired man looks straight into my eyes with a creepy grin, a feeling of uneasiness striking my nerves.

He wants to see how the task of trying out things with Premiere's basic tools is going for me-- which is awful because all I've done is opened a new project and named it _failure_.

I clear my throat as I turn back to the computer, accidentally clicking on a pop up on the screen when I touch the mouse. The screen turns to black and soft, barely audible sounds begin to come out of the computer's built in speakers. I turn up the volume to make sure what the sound is and furrow my eyebrows, waiting for something to happen.

Suddenly, a colourful, poorly drawn animation of three nude guys moaning while seemingly - can't tell for sure since the image quality is too nasty - fucking each other surfaces.

_Oh yes, Philip, put it in my mouth. Sooner, daddy!_

The familiar sound of Jack's exaggerated voice hits the computer's speakers, causing everyone in the room of 30 of my course mates to turn their heads towards where I've taken a seat, by the entrance door.

I don't bother paying attention to my teacher's _Turn it off_! 's as I, shocked, stare into the screen, incapable of understanding what exactly to do and why I'm seeing this stupid animation.

While - as I've figured - Phil's character goes on about only belonging to only a _William_ , the teacher grabs my mouse aggressively and begins clicking on places, wishing to get rid of the pop up but when it doesn't work, I suddenly react by pressing the _on/off_ button on the back side of the screen.

It shuts down, but I can still hear my course mates laughing at me, my friends (and the other guy) moaning and the video editing teacher freaking out oh so long after the incident of Jack and Phil's computer virus filling up the computer I happened to use.

I wouldn't have thought that what my friends got punished for in their first year of MAC, which they mentioned on the day we met, would be a type of virus affecting most of the college's computers. One that exposes their nude bodies and terrible animation skills.

Although they're completely stupid for thinking they'd get away with it, Jack and Phil are geniuses in a way.

***

The hired bus, which is going to lead us all the way from Mullingar to Galway, arrives at our school's front yard approximately 20 minutes before we'd take off.

Because I, utterly embarrassed from what had happened in Audio-Visual Editing just an hour ago, left class early, it occurs that I'm the first and only person on the coach.

I'm not complaining, not at all. Pretty nice to be on my own from time to time, not that I hate constantly existing around humans - admittedly, everyone occasionally does though -, it's just terribly exhausting, especially for a person like me. I like people as long as they're kind and believe it or not, most humans surrounding me at this point in my life don't seem very toxic.

As an indie song playing from the Spotify playlist I've been working on since beginning of my studies in MAC hits a high note, I take out the earbuds borrowed from Dodie and lay them on one of the empty seats next to me.

Not going to lie, I'm moderately excited for this whole journey. Not because we'll be exploring more of Ireland, but mainly for the reason that I can, hopefully, get to know my course mates better. Quite sad that I've never really spoken a word to anyone other than Dodie and En; even when I need a pen or to find out what we're supposed to do, I inevitably end up asking them. There's Saoirse as well but I don't think she likes me that much.

Ten minutes before the departure, people from my course and a lot of others that I've only spotted in the corridors, begin to arrive at the massive double-decker coach. Their faces glow in excitement and joy, only a few of them showing signs of dissatisfaction as they take their preferred seats.

When observing the view outside the vehicle's window, I notice Dodie and En walking across the pavement surrounding MAC's building, exchanging heartfelt laughs; they have more than one bag each with them and I'm curious what could be inside of them.

When they enter the bus, I'm taken by surprise that they don't even take a look around it to search for me, as at least En regularly does. Instead, they begin their way up to the second storey, ignoring our History mistress' comment _You can only go to the second floor when the first one's full_ which she had just directed at the two friends, whose passionate laughters I'm able to hear from the back of the coach.

I wonder whether I should text En about it but in the end decide not to as I'm well aware that if she needs space, I have to give it to her. The two of us _have_ been spending an awful lot of one-on-one time together ever since we made up, so it'd be only reasonable for En to pass time with her other friends.

I put my earbuds back in, having enough of the uproar caused by the endless students here. Yet regardless of how much I turn the music up, the loud noise that people create for no reason in particular is still audible. Annoyed, I dig the plastic pieces even deeper into my ears; sure I'll be deaf by the end of this journey.

When the clock strikes 10 minutes past the time we were supposed to leave - 12:10, I begin to wonder why on earth we haven't departed yet. I can't help but check the time every few seconds, so much anxiety building inside me. 

When a part of a song is silent, I hear one of my teacher's loud voice in the speakers of the bus and realize she's been calling out student names for a while now.

When the greyhead, who's liked by the entire school for her sweetness and amusing way of teaching history, calls out my full name, I remove my earbuds again and put up my hand, not being in the mood to yell across the entire bus. She slightly nods as soon as she notices my trembling, awkwardly long arm and checks something in the piece of paper balancing on her palms.

The majority of pupils have sneaked onto the second storey and our elderly teacher is visibly having trouble walking up and down the stairs whenever there's no response, therefore after a while, another teacher that I'd never seen around before stands up, taking the list from her.

The woman's rough voice that seems funny to me compared to her short, small body, echoes throughout the bus as I put my bottle of water to my lips to take a sip.

\- Lester, Philip.

Unable to swallow the sip of water, I leave in my mouth, nearly choking. Phil? 

Is there a mistake or is someone else called in the exact same name as my roommate?

\- No? – the teacher scoffs, not surprised. - Then what about next-- McLoughlin, Sean. Where are the two bastards? - the teacher continues, scanning the bus, her low pitched voice and aggressive movements giving me a headache. It doesn't make sense.

As far as I'm told, no second, third or fourth years are supposed to go on this trip. I sweep the bus with my own eyes, incapable of finding any sign of my friends until two figures, both panting, enter the vehicle with a scene.

\- Here, here. Sorry we're late, we had to take the equip-- I watch as Jack and Phil struggle with a tons of bags on their shoulders and hanging at their hands; Phil's hurried voice is soon cut off by the terrifying teacher.

\- I couldn't care less about your _adventures_ with Sean. Take a seat before the both of you are thrown out. - the teacher doesn't even glance at the comers, she only checks their names on the list gracefully. Her comment is followed by a brief moment of everyone laughing at Jack and Phil, some drawling a few oof's. To that the mentioned guys respond with a theatrical bow.

Unlike Dodie and En before, my roommate and his best friend scan the coach carefully, slowly - and unknowingly - approaching me. When my and Phil's eyes meet, a delighted grin originates on his face as he eagerly pokes Jack in his shoulder, then shows his finger up in the close, suffocating air of the bus to point at me.

When the two boys arrive at the back of the vehicle, they both greet me, to which I respond with a clueless smile. I watch them put their pretendedly heavy bags in the compartment above the seats and settle down next to me; no one, for some reason, dared to take the four empty seats on my left.

\- Why are you here? - I ask before words come out of Phil's already open mouth. He's conquered a seat right beside me, his leg _almost_ unnoticeably brushing against mine, provoking a feeling like I have zero personal space so I move closer to the window on my right.

\- To go on the excursion to Galway, obviously. - my roommate answers apathetically and relocates a couple of centimeters into the direction of Jack, allegedly noticing the tiniest things I do yet again.

The boy's habit of persistently perceiving every single movement that my body makes - sometimes it creeps me out. Almost like he knows me better than I know myself, which doesn't make any sense really - we've been living together for less than two months. It's practically no time.

\- Isn't this trip for the first years only? - sounding a little harsh and avoiding Phil's gaze, I ask hastily, watching Jack pull out a phone from a pocket of his and taking a photo of the crowded bus instead.

\- It is. - Phil replies instantly. - But if you get banned from attending the excursion last year, you _can_ convince the school staff to let you go this year. We told the office lady how we've changed, for the better. Somehow, she believed and put our names in the list. - the boy explains, turning to face Jack, and whines as soon as he catches his friend scrolling through Instagram.

I quickly put my phone, which all this time had been laying on my lap, in the backpack between my legs. Don't need Phil to complain about me using my phone as well - he's been a pain in the ass about it to me too many times to count already. Boy needs attention all to himself.

\- Why didn't you tell me? - I keep my interrogation up.

\- For a surprise. What, you don't like surprises? - Phil narrows his eyes as he realizes he doesn't know as much about me as he'd assumed. Perhaps.

Taking a quick moment to wonder why exactly this situation is causing me irritation helps me understand that I was in fact kind of looking forward to spending time with _new_ people. If my friends are around, it's ten times more difficult to pay attention to others.

\- I _was_ hoping to get rid of you for a few days. - I coldly direct my answer to Phil, not giving a single damn about hurting his feelings. Because by offending him I could provide ourselves some apart time. And because his and Jack's dumb virus still has me annoyed for humiliating me after all.

Ignoring the obvious hurt on Phil's face, I face the window, wishing we would take off already. Honestly, how much would it take for something related to this school to happen on time?

I rest my head on the uncomfortable surface of the bus seat's corner and listen to the sound of my heart pounding in my ears. An anxious disaster, yeah, that's how to describe me today.

***

Throughout the entire ride to Galway, stopping to have a tour around a town called Athlone in the way, Phil unstoppably tried to intervene me in his conversations with Jack.

He's very annoying today, even more than typically. As I've noticed before, Phil gets like this whenever he's lacking attention - a thing he desperately desires at all costs. I don't mind him talking every three seconds most of the time but at one point the repetitive rants are enough.

Besides, whenever someone's behaviour becomes irritating, I begin to find everything they say that way. So the attitude isn't very healthy for either Phil or myself.

When we drive past a white road sign saying _Ballinasloe 2 →_ , the boy next to me decides to do _it_ again.

\- I'm still shocked that my most viewed video on YouTube is one that's completely unoriginal. – Phil grumbles in somewhat dissatisfaction, meaning our gameplay video he posted on his channel last weekend. - All because of you, Dan. - he finishes with a 'wink' and I groan in my head. I don't have any problem with him constantly mentioning the video; he simply can't wink.

This time, instead of completely ignoring him, I choose to stop being a bitch for a moment and reply, even managing to sound sort of nice.

\- I can't see why. Your other videos are much better. – picking my nails, I admit blithely. The ones that Phil's played for me really are that great.

He mostly uploads the short films he's assigned to make for school and vlogs of his adventures with acquaintances, along with a few of the sitting in front of a camera and speaking ones. Even if I didn't know Phil in real life, I'd watch his videos -- they're entertaining enough.

\- Was that a compliment? Coming from you? - the guy on my left gasps, covering his mouth with one of his hands, to which I mouth a _Maybe_ in response. - Those I don't hear from you a lot. - he finishes, removing the hand and showing off a genuine grin.

Jack on the other hand pays more attention to the topic his friend had brought up than he does to my compliment directed at Phil.

He's taken out his tiny laptop at some point and is scrolling through the comments on Phil's _dan and i play zelda for a school project_ video.

\- Clearly because they think your gay ass is dating him. - Jack smirks at Phil, pointing at the messages. - Look at the comments, there's almost a hundred of them and most are asking who your boyfriend is. - he continues as I scratch my neck awkwardly. 

Never did I see them, oh boy. Yet my opinion's set; people on the internet sure assume someone's in a relationship with any person they spend time with.

I mean, I ship a lot of characters with other characters myself, but it's uncomfortable to me when it comes to actual people, like Ryan Ross and Brendon Urie. Panic! is one of my favourite bands but because of the consistent fan urge to gossip about _Ryden_ , I decided to step away from the fandom.

\- I know right, funny how they're not aware that Dan's the most flaming _hetero_ sexual in the world. - Phil's laughter fills the bus and some people seated not many rows from us glance at him. Not only have they been appearing jealous of our seats the whole time, but they have a rude habit of eavesdropping on our conversations.

\- I think we should post another video. - Phil suggests, peeking at me.

I sigh as the bus storms over a deep hole in the road and the entire vehicle quivers -- those who generally have no sense of balance, including myself, hit their heads against their front seats pretty badly. Surprised that Jack's laptop hadn't landed on the floor, I accept that the guy just isn't clumsy.

The sudden mess in the bus gives me some time to make up an answer to Phil's suggestion in my head.

\- What would we even do? I'm not interesting enough, especially compared to you. - I watch Phil's face go from _please, you're the best_ to _for fucks sake dan_ in seconds.

\- The video has got 26000 views in 6 days and my other ones get 7000 max. Are you sure? - he questions back, astonishing me with the most recent count of views. – Because if it's because they like you, a channel for yourself wouldn't suck.

It really is odd that so many people have watched it already. But why?

\- Can I get everyone's attention, please? - our history teacher's voice hits the speakers, shutting everyone up almost instantly. I hear a silent _I'm so excited for this_ coming from Phil's direction and notice his hand leaning over Jack's laptop to close it.

\- Alright. We'll be arriving at our second stop - a medieval town called Athenry, which is only 20 kilometers away from Galway City - in approximately 15 minutes so I recommend everyone to get ready for a half an hour long walk. Thank you! - as the sweet lady talks, I watch Phil excitedly toss around his seat, unsure of how to react to him permanently being so cheerful. No matter how many times I say it in my head, I just don't understand.

\- Why are you always this happy? – aware of how much of a headass I come across as, I let out, my voice breaking as Phil turns to face me instantly.

Pursing his lips at me, he slightly tilts his head in confusion. Coming up with a vile idea in my head, low key I dig the sudden change of his facial expressions.

\- Can't I be? Isn't it a good thing? - he asks quietly, licking his lips.

\- It's annoying. - I reply just as coldly as before.

My eye catches Jack's baffled glare - his face illustrates more than any words would. Has he understood where I'm going with this? 

Yet, where am I, really. Am I about to take the piss out of Phil due to him being needy for attention or am I just being rude?

Guess something in me finds it necessary to free the anger building up inside me, and Phil, knowing him, would have the strongest and most passionate reaction to it, satisfying my desires completely.

\- So what you're implying is that Phil's happiness is irritating to you? - Jack speaks up, crossing his arms together tightly and moving his torso into my direction. Phil falls deeper into his seat so Jack could talk to me more directly.

\- It is to me. - I keep my filthy wish up, feeling better and better by every passing second of watching Phil's face full of hurt and Jack's pissed expressions.

\- Not everyone is as happy as you are, Phil, and all you ever do is bring up your joy to make _those_ people feel worse. - I continue since neither of these two typically talkative people have anything to say.

Amusing how you can change a quite pleasant - for some - aura with just a sentence. You can control any situation you're in. Something people sure don't use their abilities enough for.

\- Merely because you're unhappy doesn't mean others have to feel the same way, too. For your information, everything isn't about you. - Jack narrows his eyes at me and jeers, sounding like a 10 year old, bitter at their friend for taking something all to themselves.

Phil's rested his back against his seat, his head down and light coloured eyes looking into nowhere; I must have really hurt him somehow cause I've never had the chance to see him this quiet and downhearted.

\- But it is. You see, I perceive the world from my own perspective, which is 'what happens to me is how the world's like for me'. You can't disagree with the fact that _you_ are the most important person in _your_ world. - I speak confidently, not exactly knowing when I've become so existential.

The sorrow on Phil's pale face I attempt to ignore. So in hopes of shaking off the miserable feeling about ever starting this conversation, I think about how the guy on my left is permanently cheerful, meaning, a little moment of sadness wouldn't do him any harm.

\- Sure you are to some level but you have to think about others, too, unlike what you, Dan, are doing now. - Jack responds proudly, falling back in his seat as a way of saying this conversation is over.

I turn away from the two best friends for a moment to look down at my knees and detect the only bag I've taken with me on this trip - my black backpack covered in badges. One almost empty, only an outfit or two and local snacks in it. I'm a minimalist.

Like a tornado, I rise up from seat quickly, taking my backpack by one of the straps. I scan the bus, looking for an empty seat I could take.

\- Where are you going? - the brittle sound in Phil's usually fruity voice hits my eardrums and distracts me from my planned walk to the front part of the vehicle, where I'd just spotted a familiar redhead, sitting all alone.

\- Someplace away from here. I'm bothering you with my sadness, aren't I? - I ask, beginning to walk away hesitantly, not facing Jack and Phil. I'm well aware that I'm acting like the victim when in reality I'm the bully.

But it's entertaining.

\- Don't be stupid, you can't go anywhere. We're on an excursion together and you can't possibly avoid us throughout it all. - Phil states quickly as I start walking faster; he thinks I won't be able to hear him in the noisy bus.

But in fact I can hear him and Jack even when I'm at the middle part of the bus and Jack decides to say something along the lines of _\--ush being a total headass_.

As soon as I've reached Saoirse, going through the conversation the tree of us just had in my head, I occupy the seat on her left. I don't greet the supposedly carsick girl, whose head is pressed against the foggy window, and she acts like she hasn't noticed my arrival either.

The next five minutes before heading out to go on a wet - due to the unexpected rainy weather - tour around Athenry, I spend thinking of how fucked up I am.

It isn't the first and sure won't be the final time I use someone to feel better myself. Toxic, how toxic, but these outbursts are an unwanted part of me.

Every inch of the day I've perceived all kinds of emotions troubling me, starting with despair, leading all the way to infuriation. Only two moods, apparently.

I lie back in the seat to get more comfortable and put my earbuds back in, then never remove them - even when my phone charges out a few hours later. It's a great way to avoid the society and a perfect way to eavesdrop - something I'd usually despise.

***

After a rushed visit of the National Aquarium of Ireland, one of the best known and most visited places in Galway, we weren't finished with the exhausting excursion just yet. In fact, the teachers that are leading the group of 80 students around decided it'd be for the best to let us explore on our own and meet up an hour and a half later.

By now it's already 6pm and I couldn't care less about filling up my growling stomach with whatever's in the cafes nearby or walking around the stony shore like my course mates. I just want a bed on which I could lie and cry on. Which, frankly, I don't do a lot but today is a day horrible enough for me to actually let my emotions out.

With the sky slowly getting darker, therefore starry, I'm walking around the busy streets of Galway on my own, not exactly finding the loneliness that upsetting. Rather lovely to wander around with no destination whatsoever.

Before heading off, Phil even came up to me with an invitation to come to a _South Park_ with him, Jack, En and her roommates, but I rejected him instantly. In fact, I didn't even say a word to him, just shook my head no and walked away in the opposite direction in silence.

A lot of guilt has occupied my mind during these friendless hours but for some reason I don't have the guts to apologize for or even address what had happened earlier. I can't understand whether Jack and Phil have let it go already - they seemed all happy again but I better than anyone know how much you can hide behind a smile.

I should simply give everyone what they desire - a break from the exhaustingly depressed piece of crap Dan. Time for me to stop when I've begun to act mean towards the people I, in a way, give a damn about.

Some other pondering relating to the same thought has traveled through my mind over and over today. What if--

What if I _accidentally_ disappeared on this trip and wouldn't return? What if I'd just jump in front of a car? Or right into the cold water of the North Atlantic ocean? I could end my life at any moment and no one would notice. Doesn't feel like anyone cares about me that much.

Usually, I'd say it's a lie and there's at least one person out in the wild who does but think about it - my own mother's been ignoring me for a month and a half, my best friend has refused to talk to me for 4 months and my somewhat girlfriend has decided to get a break from me as well. No one wants a Dan in their lives.

So lost drinking the cup of ginger tea I'd ordered at a tea house found only a 10 minute long walk away from where our bus is located, I miss the clock striking 7:30 in the evening, the 90 minutes we'd been given passed by and my phone's battery charging all the way up to 100%.

After a quick _Thank you_ directed at the cheap tea house's only waiter, I rush outside of the round building and run as fast as I can to where I remember our bus was parked.

It is no surprise to me that even when I arrive ten minutes late, the coach is in no condition to continue the journey. Due to only a half of the students turning up so soon.

I step inside the vehicle, say my last name to the teacher responsible for everyone arriving back on the coach, and walk to the seat next to Saoirse, passing a cloud of smoke on the way - a lot of MAC's students, no matter how old they are, smoke or in this case vape because they aren't allowed to light a cigarette inside.

I'm not against smoking, in fact I tend to smoke whenever I party, but other than that it's very likely I wouldn't touch a cigarette while sober -- it feels gross. Nevertheless, smoking is an unpreventable art school habit.

As soon as I've settled down on the hard seat, still breathing heavily from jogging here, I shut my eyes and listen to whatever I'm hearing - mostly underage students complaining about how much they want to get drunk.

I hear Saoirse asking whether I'm OK, to which I murmur a quiet _Fine_ in response, too exhausted to function. My brains feel so fuzzy it's difficult to make out a sentence even in my mind.

\- You can take the seat next to the window if you want to, I'm not feeling sick anymore. - the girl suggests kindly, patting on my shoulder. Opening my eyes, I give her a grateful smile; even though I've been ignoring her for the past 4 or so hours and she probably hates my guts, Sao's making an effort for me. A small one but still - an effort.

Once we've switched seats and got into somewhat snug positions, my eyes fall shut and I lie like that for so long that the bus starts driving.

Normally, people fall asleep when they're this knackered but not me. It always takes ages for me to pass out, especially in circumstances like this - a loud chatter, a variety of songs playing from wireless speakers all around the coach and my heart pounding in my ears from all the stress my body's going through.

\- Is he asleep? - his Northern English accent hits my eardrums, scaring me, but I try to stay still to not give the answer to his question away.

Curious.

After a moment in which I'm unable to hear Sao's response - she must've answered with body language - Phil continues talking. He must be standing in the aisle, beside our seats.

\- What should I do? I want to help him so much, I could rip myself apart. It's so goddamn hard for me to function normally when a friend of mine is feeling bad. And Dan is a friend, yeah, definitely.

I slightly move my ear into their direction, hoping I could hear them more clearly this way – not that easy to get the hang of words when someone's muttering so quietly.

Phil doesn't think differently of me after this? He even wants to _help_ me?

\- I don't think you can do anything. Dan's a mystery. We all have thought that something's wrong with him and he's hiding a secret from us. Which is why _I_ don't trust him.

The fact that Saoirse isn't entirely happy with me doesn't come as a surprise to me, and I don't blame her. She might be the only wise person from our circle of friends when it comes to this.

Since the girl has mentioned a _secret_ , which I've already revealed to Phil a while ago, I'm scared to hear his reply. What if the boy's told someone about my mental health difficulties?

\- Maybe we're making him feel like he can't trust us.

I gulp, unexpectedly hearing my exact thoughts coming out of Phil's mouth. So thankful he doesn't mention my depression or ADD, I ponder maybe. Oh maybe I really can trust him. This friend.

\- Whatever it is, he shouldn't have said _that_ to you earlier, the brat.

Due to the contempt in Saoirse's voice, guilt kicks in for another time.

\- Seriously wasn't that bad, Jack made the whole argument sound a lot worse than it actually was. He's pissed at him. But from what I understand, Dan's not in a good place right now and it excuses his actions to some level. I'm OK with it.

In the most platonic way possible, my heart feels soft for him.

Phil couldn't have just defended me so shortly after I treated him like absolute garbage. Or did he, because that's our Phil - he only sees the good in people. Despite everything.

Stupid, useless me.

I should've never said that to _Phil_ , how could have I? He's the least person in this entire galaxy to deserve this sort of behavior from anyone. He may be irritating and he may like attention a little too much, but you can't ever be flawless, there's always some of the good and the bad.

This guy, however, happens to have more of the good sort. Looking back, I, the master of judging humans fairly, can't understand my previous inability to comprehend how nice my roommate is.

\- Phil, you're literally too kind to be on this planet. - Sao states, taking the words out of my mouth. Well, if I weren't pretending to be asleep, exactly what I would've told him.

After a small giggle, I don't hear a word from him anymore - the boy's left. Since I couldn't possibly fall asleep now, the rest of the ride's spent pondering about ways to make up to Phil. Wouldn't take back my bitterness but any apology could lessen the upset. Even if he claims he's fine.

_We're reaching our shelter for the night in less than 10 minutes. Pick up everything you'll need at the hotel because you won't be able to go back to the bus until tomorrow morning. Once we get there, I'll hand out the keys to your rooms. There are two or three students per room and we've already arranged the groups so no switching. Take care of each other or contact any of the teachers in case of an emergency. Don't bother the rest of the hotel's visitors. Don't get too intoxicated. Most importantly, have fun._

Our department head's, called Joke by the students, rough voice makes my eyes fall right open. Because of the unexpected brightness in the vehicle they can't adjust just yet but when they finally do..

The bus appears to be a chaos. Even louder than before, the students are communicating by yelling at each other and throwing their stuff around, in the meantime searching for belongings they've lost. The teachers, however, are sitting at the front near Sao and I silently, or speaking just a few words to their colleagues. Judging us teenagers to a level incapable to describe.

When minutes later the driver pulls up at the hotel, everyone begins to rush to the exit and jump out of the vehicle, some of their bags accidentally hitting my head in the way. With no intention of leaving the bus as quickly as my peers, I wait for everyone to take off so I could make my way out unbothered. I'm not expecting my night to be eventful at all, I'll probably simply sleep it off and regret it in the morning. Well, that sounds like a plan.

As soon as I step outside and breathe in the freezing air, I scan the brick-built hotel, which looks more of an apartment building - like the one I live in at Berkshire - to me. Another one built next to it, 4 stories high as well, is illuminated by a front yarn surrounding line of lanterns and I must say - it's strange to see houses like this in a place declared a forest.

A lot of trees aren't around but I notice a dusky pond coated in wilted water lilies and other plants - En, if she sees it, is going to love it. She oh so adores anything _nature_.

After ambling past another group of smokers, I open the heavy entrance door, meeting a waiting room stuffed with sweaty, overly excited teenagers. I stop right by the door and stare down at my feet, hoping that way no one would walk up to me and decide to start a conversation. Wouldn't be the first time a random MAC student would do that to me.

Joke's already begun to call out names and give each group or pair a set of keys with a wooden piece and a number on it. Anxiously I wait, praying to all gods there are that I wouldn't be assigned to share a room with someone I fear.

After a while, I notice a pattern - they would put you in the same accommodation as your course mate(s) of your gender. Meaning I'm going to be in a room with a guy or two that I've never had the guts to talk to. Fantastic.

\- Robert Kayle Jewel and Daniel Howell. - our department's head's announcement follows right after I've heard him call En, Dodie and another course mate of mine – Elyssabeth. My friends were beyond happy to be stay together for the night - although I couldn't see them in the crowd, their screams anyone could hear from here.

By the time I figure that I should probably step forward, Robert, the freakishly short, constantly lost blonde guy from my course, had already obtained the rusty key and emerged by my side.

\- Shall we go to the room..304? - he suggests in his most Irish accent, ironically asking for my hand. I laugh at him shyly, pretending to be honored to take it.

Thereby we stroll through the crowd, stepping on dozens of toes and causing people to yell out in pain; by the time we get to the staircase I have said _sorry_ so many times it's become funny.

***

_knock knock knock knock knock knock_

I groan out loud as I've just undressed - ready to step behind the shower curtains of our room's tiny bathroom -, wondering why anyone would knock on the door in such an irritating way.

\- I'm busy, can you please go answer it? - I shout at Robert, hoping he can hear me through the incredibly loud music blasting from the rooms next to ours.

Not waiting for a response, I pull the flower printed green curtain to close the space around me and turn on the water. To fall into a couple of minutes of, hopefully, relaxation.

Once I've taken one of the shortest and least satisfying showers of my life, I grab one of the towels by the loo and take a look at my nude body in the mirror above sink while getting rid of the drops of water. Insecure, awfully insecure of the image, I stare down at the pile of clothes on the floor, avoiding the reflections coming from every place in this damn bathroom.

Out of all things, I've forgotten to bring clean underwear to the room with me. So a small debate of 'whether I should go outside in the towel to take it quickly or just wear nothing under my pants' in my head later, I, in the end, go for the first option. As well as adjust the white towel so I wouldn't accidentally flash in Robert's face.

Cautiously, I open the door, meeting a human-free room with two single orange covered beds, an empty closet and me and Robert's stuff thrown across the floor.

I start going through my bag quickly, unable to find my desired - or any really - underwear. When the entry door to our room cracks open and I'm still on the floor, except from the towel around my hips - naked, I swear loudly.

Robert and my eyes meet for a second but he breaks the contact as soon as he notices my uncovered skin absolutely everywhere but around my crotch, making me shut my eyes in embarrassment and grunt in my head again.

\- Um, Dan. Some guy told me that Joke mixed something up and I shouldn't have been put in a room with you. - Robert states, utterly confused, even more than he typically is.

\- What? - is all that comes out of my mouth as I freeze, forgetting to keep my rummage up.

\- Don't understand why either but, well, he seemed serious about it so I guess I _am_ leaving. Already got the right key. - I glance at the speaker and detect the mentioned piece of metal swinging at his finger as he's sweeping through the mess on the floor, searching for his belongings.

I don't say anything, only watch him pick up his stuff from the ground and put them in his _Nike_ sports bag.

\- See you later, supposedly. - he waves me goodbye, hesitating before opening the door of our -well not anymore- room and ambling outside, leaving me here all alone, feeling out of place and, for your information, still lacking underwear.

What's happening, why is it so important for Robert to be in the same room as it apparently says on the list? Not that it matters so much anyway.

After a couple of seconds of intense staring at the door, it cracks open once again. This time a tall, dark figure appearing in the doorway.

Once I notice the tons of bags in their arms, I realize what it is that my roommate back in MAC has somehow arranged this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter's song: dan
> 
> this chapter is based on an actual school excursion i went on in november, 2017. my course and a few other media art department's courses traveled to tallinn, estonia and stayed over at a hotel in a forest (where everyone got wasted and i smoked weed for the first time in my life). except for the amazing night spent at the hotel, i felt horrible throughout the whole trip -- didn't talk to anyone just like dan in this chapter.
> 
> what's your opinion on dan being a bitch towards his friends and phil's reaction to it? what about the fact that the video phil uploaded on youtube got so many views?


	8. .:. 505 // arctic monkeys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> October, 2017: [Phil's perspective]
> 
> [an embrace so comforting, so relieving]
> 
> [the cons of jealousy and perhaps just cons]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: mentions SEXUAL ASSAULT, DEATHS of PARENTS and SUICIDAL INTENTIONS

_october 19th_

i'm not satisfied with how things are. not at all.

my refusal to get intoxicated before i've figured out how to deal with dan, of course, is pissing jack off. _come on, phil, it can wait until tomorrow. we, however, won't get the chance to experience this night again_. he had just uttered from where he, a huge bottle of vodka and some lemon juice are laying on the floor by the mysterious balcony of our room, which i still haven't checked out due to my destructive pondering.

it was indeed hard to believe that MAC would allow us to stay at a hotel this cosy and sweet. it is so unlike the disgusting, mouldy dorms that were probably last repaired twenty years ago. i don't think anyone would like to step a foot inside of their rooms if the students themselves weren't allowed to refurbish them however we wanted to.

\- it _can't_ wait until tomorrow. i won't be able to enjoy anything unless i talk to him. - i sigh at my party pooper tendencies, receiving a bummed out response from my best friend, who had now risen up from his position by the wall, attempting to open up the door to the balcony.

\- why is it so important? it's no big deal, you said it yourself.

i look down at my fingers, discovering they're trembling. perhaps because of my sleep deprivation caused by the piles of school work. could be the infrequent yet demolishing anxiety i'm suffering as well.

in all honesty, though, what dan had declared earlier in the day _was_ a big deal to me - i'm privileged enough to say that people treating me badly isn't something i constantly encounter - but i couldn't let the others be even more mean to him after today. addressing the situation as if i - the somewhat victim of dan's strange outburst - wasn't that affected would hopefully clear the air.

\- i get it. you're devoted to him. but christ, phil, you don't even know him that well. what if the way he acted earlier is how he's actually like, as a person? look at it this way, even _en_ , the girl who's been all over him since day one is avoiding him. if that doesn't say something, i don't know, man. - jack's back is pressed against the door he was just having trouble opening whereas he's rolling cigarettes from the cheap cherry flavoured tobacco we'd bought at a sketchy store in galway and placing them into his marijuana themed tobacco case.

when jack's elbow by accident hits the window sill on which he's been rolling and pieces of the toxic plant fall on the floor, i, entertained by the view, choose to respond.

\- the two of us live together, i'm pretty sure i've got the picture by now. dan.. he's something else. - i gulp at the end, plainly contemplating my obvious feelings for the boy.

i was never allowed to publicly like boys where i'm from and even now, for the sake of en, along with dan's suspicious homophobia, it's for the best to hide my crush. not that i'm succeeding, judging by dan's _girlfriend_ 's death glares whenever him and i are in the same room.

after my father's - the only family member's i had left - sudden death at the beginning of 2016, i discovered an urge to start over again, being the person i am in an absolutely new place with no one familiar around. so i began to look for ways to achieve it.

while scrolling through numerous websites for hours on end, an art college, claimed to be the most tolerant and accepting irish school by poc, lgbtq+ and several religion representative graduates, caught my eye. it seemed like the perfect option for well, _me_.

to my dear aunt, who's been taking care of me since my dad's accident, i told a story about an internet friend lucy, someone lovely enough to offer me a stay at their place while i'd take the entrance exams to get in mac. the same story, in hopes of preventing someone from finding out about my past, i've told to practically everyone here. but of course, lucy does and did not exist.

when i arrived at mullingar in july, 2016, i had no extra sterling and weren't old enough to book a hotel room. whilst expecting to have two sleepless nights spent on a bench someplace dangerous, it wouldn't occur to me that on my first day in ireland, i'd be greeted by irish people native hospitality. more precisely, the same sweet guy in the room with me right now, who patiently listened to my story a few minutes before the first exam took place and kindly offered to spend the night at his. no better way to start a friendship than helping out a stranger.

i take a moment to glance at jack, only to find out that he, after cleaning up the mess he'd made, has opened his mouth to respond to my previous statement.

\- didn't you say the exact same thing about will? well before he tried to fucking rap-- he pauses for a moment, failing to cover up his poor usage of lexicon. - before he tried to perform a non-consensual sexual activity on you? - jack finishes, the last part sounding more like a question.

thoroughly disgusted by the unexpected mentioning of an event i had tried my hardest to sweep away from my memory, i silently glare at jack, my mouth falling open from the unpleasant surprise.

\- i better go and see how dan's doing. - i cough, shaking my head to get back to reality, and rise up from the mattress. after turning around to face the wall mirror right by the bed i had settled on, i adjust my messy quiff. when it doesn't work out, i sigh at the reflection, wishing i didn't look so dead all the time.

\- phil, i'm sorry for bringing _that_ up. - the green haired boy, who's showed up behind me unnoticed, puts his hand on my shoulder. i notice him standing on tiptoes in order to be around my height.

\- mhm, it's fine, i was about to look for dan either w-ways. - i smile at him in the mirror, removing his hand from my shoulder to make a 180 degree turn more easily. - have you got any idea where's his room? - i ask after walking past jack to the room's entry, where's our stuff, coats and the door to the lavatory.

\- i don't. but heard my friend's brother is in the room with him. - jack speaks up so i could hear him while going through my belongings, making sure i don't take any of jack's. as soon as i've brought everything, i return to the bedroom to find jack on his phone, still standing by the mirror.

\- how about you ask him? - i take a seat at the edge of my bed, despising the weight of the tripod, video camera and electronic stabilizer we had borrowed from our school's equipment room for this trip.

it takes jack a minute, spent texting his friend, to spot my appearance and as soon as his eyes bug out, i answer to the question i know he's about to ask.

\- i've got to make some kind of an excuse as to why i'm looking for him.

the boy's eyes sparkle from a sudden thought in his head. - you mean like filming a sex tape? - he glances at the filming equipment bags i've brought, smirking insanely. i dissolve into laughter as jack winks at me, perking up and forgetting the troublesome incident from just minutes ago.

although jack can't shut his mouth when necessary, he's a great friend, as well as one of the most supportive people i've had the pleasure to get to know. he makes me feel a lot more accepted and loved, simultaneously being the life of the party.

\- no, you sick fuck, to convince dan that we were assigned to stay in the same room together. - i stand up and back from the soft sheets. before ambling out the room, i make out a hardly audible _the things you do for him_ coming from my best friend's, who seems a bit hurt, mouth. it's only around 8pm, i can drop in to party with him later.

***  
with _505_ playing from the room next to dan's and reminding me of different, much sadder times, i lay eyes on dan's awfully good looking course mate strolling through the corridor. immediately after the blond guy's reached the end of it, i nervously allow myself in.

from one look i could tell that dan is unhappy with my arrival. from the second, i become aware of his nudity, apart from the towel wrapped around his waist. although i would much rather stare at his bare chest, i find it more reasonable to shift my gaze to something else.

i mutter a _sorry_ and press my back against the wall on my right, shutting my eyes from how uncomfortable i must be making the boy feel. even in the dorms, he never gets dressed in our room. without having him to say it, i'm aware of how self conscious dan is.

when he rushes to the bathroom's door right beside me, i hear a sniffle.

as soon as the door slams shut, i press my ear against it, trying to figure out whether dan really is as upset as he's seemed throughout the day. catching a silenced whimper, my assumption turns out to be true.

\- what's wrong? - i query, instead of asking if he's ok - he clearly isn't. normally, i would bang on the door to make the person open it, afraid of the possibility of them hurting themselves, but i had already taken too much of his so desperately required personal space.

no response. only the sound of a zipper fastening, stuff being thrown around the small space and sobs. destructive, heart shattering sobs, making my mind go insane. arctic monkeys thundering from the other room makes it all worse.

\- please talk to me, dan. i can't help you if you're not communicating. what is it? - my heart is pounding from the thought of my friend going through so much pain he can't even make out any words to describe it. _perhaps he just didn't want to talk at all_. i believed until scarcely comprehensible stutters come out of his presumably soaked lips.

\- i want to d-die so so much, phil. death-- it's the only t-thing that could act-actually help me.

i freeze, my ear stuck to the bathroom door as i blankly stare at the messy room i had selfishly stolen from dan's course mate; it's barely lit - the only light is coming from two night lamps by the beds and the door of the balcony is slightly open, letting in bits of cold air. if dan wouldn't have a mental breakdown just behind the door, i'd say the hotel room's accidental aesthetic along with the excellent music in the background makes a magnificent moment.

\- you don't actually want to die. don't get me wrong, it aches to face all the mess life passes onto you, but your mind isn't clear at this moment, causing you to read certain emotions wrong. - i pause, finding it hard to concentrate on what i'm saying. i decide to use the lyrics of one of my favourite _the maine_ songs to continue my hopefully significant articulation.

\- if, if death was what you _really_ wanted, you wouldn't hesitate, you wouldn't fight it or try to calm down, you wouldn't tell me a word about it. there's a part of you, it might even be large, that wants to breathe and live, and perceive every moment as relevant. you should not waste any possible tomorrows, they may not come again.

\- and you have me, dan. you can talk to me about these things and.. i will try my best to support you. you know, there hasn't been a minute that i haven't spent wondering about you today. besides, i'm pretty certain that you wouldn't want to die on a school excursion, it would be too lame. - i finish off with a small laugh intending that the last part shouldn't be taken seriously.

when moments later the bathroom is still quiet, i ask if he's still there.

\- mhm. - dan muffles, but it's enough to calm my nerves for a second. nevertheless, i need to ensure that he's not hurting himself.

\- can i come in? - i exhale, staring at my hand, which i, at some point, have situated against the white door. i imagine dan holding it in his, but that would only happen in another, much better reality. when i, suddenly hurt from the thought remove it from the painted, wooden surface, dan responds.

\- no.

\- oh. - i sigh heavily, my voice thick with disappointment. what did i expect, really? i should just better leave him be.

but i can't. not when he's just confessed his suicidal tendencies to me.

\- i'm coming out.

the rapid, unexpected movement of the door opening takes me by surprise and i jump back, hitting my head against the wall behind me. with one hand i touch the place where it hurts and carefully observe the tall boy in the doorway, who looks immensely attractive even with his face red and wet from crying. he's wearing clothes now, his usual all-black outfit that fits his body perfectly, spotlighting his well built torso.

i gaze up, realizing i might have spent a little too long scanning his inviting body. dan's face is unreadable but tears are still rolling down his cheeks, making it hard to look him in the eye. i don't want to experience seeing him broken.

without warning, he steps forward and practically attacks me with a hug so heartfelt and reassuring, my heart nearly falls out my chest.

unsure of how to react, i slowly wrap my arms around him as well and think of this current position.

his arms are intertwined around me so narrowly together, it aches in a good way.

his feet are placed by each side of mine giving neither of us any personal space.

his head is resting on my shoulder, face only centimeters away from mine.

the funny feeling in my stomach really is cutting me into pieces, almost causing me to misbehave and comfort the boy in a non-platonic way.

yet the embrace doesn't seem very platonic either as i feel his fingers gently running across my back. he doesn't realize what he's doing to me.

\- i'm incredibly sorry for what i did today, phil. it was awful. you, out of all people, didn't deserve it. - the brittle sounds coming out of his lips make me want to tear up.

if there was anything i had against dan after his quite mean behavior, it had vanished into thin air. i couldn't possibly stay mad at him. he's becoming more than just a somebody to me. i find myself enjoying every bit of moment we get to share together. in these past two months, i've had the chance to pass almost every lonely night by talking to him in the dark for hours, even if it's fatiguing for either of us to open up. perchance existing with a mindset so repressed has its perks.

\- i've forgotten about it already. - i hug him even tighter for a second before letting go of dan completely, unable to bear with the poisonous touch any longer. i don't want to do the wrong thing, such as, coming into contact with, well, his mouth.

once we've pulled away, we both stand there, enclosed between the two walls by the entrance, staring at each other agitated. it's solely too difficult to see a single thing in the dark space but i'd swear that for a millisecond there his nut-brown eyes happen to light up and get lost in mine. and then, quicker than ever, dan would shift his eyes to stare down at his knees, muttering a

\- i heard you.

due to my sophisticated uncertainty, he pursues without delay.

\- when you assumed i was asleep on the coach. i heard what you told sao. i had no idea you would think of me that.. considerately. you do get me, huh? - dan's infamous grin appears, possibly caused by the entertainment of watching me smother in my fondness. or lust.

\- for all we know. - i gulp, uneasy from all the tension burning up inside me. i do not get worked up about him eavesdropping on my conversation with saoirse, i'd rather have him do it all the time. the courage to say it directly to him - it's something i'd never achieve.

in the next couple of hours dan and i lie on our beds carelessly, whether in silence or blathering about whatever pops up in our minds.

we do not look each other in the eye anymore.

we stand on the balcony, stalking the few drunk first-years wandering around the hotel's magnificent territory.

pretend to be too caught up having fun to call jack to join the 'party' - in truth, we just don't feel like it. besides, he must have found something better to do anyways.

spending time with the mysterious boy begins to feel different. the silence isn't awkward, the words make sense, the actions are justified.

hereafter, the 19th of october decides to take a special place in my heart.

it's the day when i fell in love with the idea of dan. belonging to me. in another, much better reality, but not very far from this one.

xxx

 _october 28th_ \- feelings are fatal // mxmtoon

on the first day of our well-deserved little break, kindly given by the college's administration, i kept feeling out of place.

jack left the dorms - and the country - yesterday morning. after discovering that both of their sons are free for five days, his quite wealthy parents found it a great opportunity to travel to iceland. i wish he weren't sending me so many snaps of how beautiful the nature there is - it makes me want to explore someplace other than ireland and the uk as well.

i travelled a lot with my mum as a kid - she worked at the airport and could get huge discounts for plane tickets - but the only reminder of those journeys extant is the handful of printed photographs. mum had a thing for asking people on the street to take pictures of her and i somewhat moving - whether it's running or dancing - besides a stop sign. _we're moving at a stop sign - we're unstoppable and nothing can come between us, phil_ she would tell me each time. it's difficult to swallow that the only thing i remember about her is untrue. untreated, fatal pneumonia did.

dan, however, is visiting _his_ mum's boyfriend's family in dublin. after nearly two months of avoiding her own child, she finally texted him a day after we got back from the excursion, concerned about his unwarned absence of his previous therapy session. apparently, the therapist had contacted her, worrying about dan's whereabouts, leaving _sarah_ no choice but to let dan know. as soon as dan got over his mum's behaviour, which seemed quite disgusting to me, and talked out all the, honestly, non-essential troubles, she offered her son a getaway place - the theo guy's parents' apartment in the capital. he, lacking change of environment, agreed to spend the break by surveying the fair city by himself and only inhabiting the parents' place at nights.

i, left alone, without any familiar around, was having a hard time editing my and dan's second video.

we arranged to film it after one of our unspecified conversations on the hotel's balcony. it had been so easy for me to communicate with him that night, we shared the same opinion on practically everything.

~

_\- about the video._

_\- you want to talk about it again?_

_\- yes! you saw how much people liked you, dan. and i'd definitely like to film with you again. we could make it a thing or even have our own channel._

_\- okay._

_\- okay what?_

_\- let's film another one. i enjoyed it just as much._

_\- are you serious?_

_\- yeah, i'm in, as long as you tell your viewers that i'm not your boyfriend._ ~ 

sighing, i draw one side of a clip to crop out the billionth moment of me staring at dan.

if my feelings towards him weren't that definite before, then starting with the odd night at the hotel, they're expanding and captivating my insides swiftly. he wouldn't leave my mind as much as it pained to see him daily.

i happen to ache for the unobtainable boy to such great extent, the editing is unsuccessful, causing me to misspend a lot of time, which otherwise would have been productive.

after sipping my earlier brewed and now cold coffee, i lie back in the swivel chair i've settled on, almost falling over it. it pretty much reflects how i currently feel - like falling.

\- dil's grimace reminded me of the face you made when i accidentally punched you earlier, while you and i were in the locker room changing. - the dan on my greasy laptop's screen chuckles at our sims4 character whom we've just placed by the empty territory we later made into his house.

during the final class, which took place at 2pm yesterday, dan and i agreed on making a collab youtube channel - one on which we would post videos of us failing at playing all sorts of games. we filmed it right after school.

~

_after stepping inside the smelly boys locker room filled with a bunch of my aggressively masculine, broad (and some not so) course mates, i immediately make my way towards the furthest aisle of lockers, from which i couldn't be seen by anyone but at the same time could creep on the rest of the men in the room. it was i incredibly convenient but felt close to stalking._

_due to jack's trip to iceland, i had to walk everywhere alone - my other coursemates, most of them boys, weren't that keen on me and would sometimes mock me for being so noisy with jack. the small amount of my female course mates, however, didn't mind interacting with me. but melanie, one of the first people i talked to from my fellow students, who is also jack's girlfriend, was too engaged in catching up with her friends, finally free from her annoying boyfriend for a couple of days, to spend time with me._

_i settle on the bench by the blue locker i've occupied, not bothering to hop into my baggy sportswear as i, for a change, take my phone out of my backpack, in hopes of contacting dan quickly._

**me [1:47pm]:** _my math teacher let us leave early so i have a couple of minutes to meet up before the last class, where u @?_

_i press 'send' and put the device next to my clothes, leaving the screen on and the chat with my roommate visible to anyone who happened to notice it._

_i loathe dressing up around humans i don't feel comfortable with. my body, except for my face which i quite like, seemed too hideous, fragile and weak to me. any possible signs of masculinity have disappeared since i became lazy and uninspired to play the only musical instrument i've ever played - the drums._

_i was only three years old when my mum's opulent oldest brother and my favourite uncle bought me a set of my very first drums. he'd constantly claim that my sense of rhythm is incredible and i'd make a talanted drummer, perhaps even a member of a famous band one day. when my mum - the most important woman to him - died, he slowly began to lose touch with our family, too hurt to be constantly reminded by her; harvey consistently said that my mum and i share the same face. until i turned 12, the man would still visit us sometimes but as soon as he stopped, i lost interest and motivation to continue playing._

_i finish undressing just when a new, delayed due to the horrible reception around here, notification pops up on my phone._

**dan ☹ [1:48pm]:** _i'm too lazy to go anyplace other than my next class rn, sorry_

_disappointed, i sigh and pull my red heinz t-shirt over my head in a rush, uncomfortable with my bare skin. my eye catches an unfamiliar student, probably here from their just finished lesson, sat on the bench a few feet from me, staring at me. he turns away as soon as i glance back. all i notice before i'm disturbed by someone's hand on my shoulder is a wide number 7 tattooed on the black haired guy's neck._

_i gaze up to see who's dared to touch me, when something bright flashes in the air and hits my face pretty badly. i yell out, more in surprise not pain, and repel the object from my face._

_his smothered chuckle and clamorous 'sorry' hit my eardrums like a bell and my eyes, which had fallen shut as an act of reflex, crack open to lay on dan instantly. he, dressed in monochrome, has his elbow pressed against one of the lockers on my right and the white thing's swinging in his arm._

_he, with his lips pouted, stares down at me_ , playfully. _my head is spinning but not from dan's sports bag flying straight into my face on accident._

_\- you should've seen your face, it was hilarious. - dan throws his bag on the floor and takes a seat on the other bench in front of me, where the tattooed boy, who's now vanished from sight, sat before._

_he crouches down to rummage through his belongings and doesn't look into my direction, giving me some time to absorb my friend's unusually glowing face and neat appearance - the perfected curls, somewhat ironed black jumper and matching skinny jeans; he's even put his earring in. since dan slept in this morning, i didn't have the chance to check him out - it's become my habit to examine his look every morning and from time to time even compliment his surprisingly cool choice of clothing._

_\- why are you here? i thought you were going to your next class. - i cough a little when dan smirks at me, acknowledging my stalking._

_\- well i have p.e. next. - he says absently as someone slams the door to the locker room so loudly, it makes me jump a little._

_honestly, teenagers are beyond aggressive, i can't understand why we find it necessary to stress out others and ourselves by constantly demolishing our surroundings. i hardly ever feel the need to express my angst, moreover experience rage. if someone does get heated a lot, i'd say it's healthier for them to put the vexed sensation into creativity, such as music, or sports._

_\- we do, too. - i mutter a disapproving response, suddenly finding the squeaking locker doors all around us irritating. - the person who makes up timetables every week must have messed up again. - by now i've taught myself to avoid eye contact with dan, because whenever it occurs, despair loads up my guts._

_but when i, at the corner of my eye, detect dan's breathtaking smile, i can't help but gaze at the boy._

_\- i think it's great. at least now i have the chance to see you exercise, which i'm certain will be amusing. - he informs in his lilting british accent, reminding me of home. in fact, dan being here is the closest i've ever come across to a homelike atmosphere in mullingar. on top of the domesticity, i associate him with safety, too._

_at some point, dan had risen up from his seat to greet someone by the name robert, later turning out to be the course mate he was supposed to stay in the hotel room with._ ~ 

being alone felt like summer all over again.

i never had friends back in england. afraid of commitment, afraid of losing someone like i have been so many times throughout my life, i figured being on my own is a lot less painful. besides, no one really paid attention to the odd, reserved kid who liked to cuddle teddy bears rather than play with car toys in the kindergarten, nor the quiet, heartbroken one who had just lost his parent and only earned the best of grades in primary school, not to mention the lonely years of secondary school, spent being bullied by his mean peers and questioning his sexuality when he discovered feelings towards a boy next door, infrequently stalked through the window.

never acknowledging my emotions is what has got me through all these sorrowful years without ever getting real, disgusting depression. such thoughtful thinking convinced me to go just as far as being sad.

mac gave me a second chance. i couldn't say that i'm happy so easily before i ever began my studies here. a frightening step forward sometimes isn't wrong taking.

~

_by the time the first half of p.e. had passed, i've become so jealous of watching dan and robert hanging out together, my brain has made up the absolute worst possible scenarios._

_if there's one bad personality trait that i'm guilty of, it's envy - an unnecessary and utterly toxic state of being. i've attempted to reduce it countlessly yet it arrives whenever i see a crush interact with another boy._

_without realizing, i approach dan, who's currently playing with basketballs along with his coursemates at one side of the gym, and sort of lurk from behind._

_that stupid robert guy, who happens to face me whereas dan's back is turned against me, is having a laugh with him, something about the word 'balls'. in a second, dan's course mate's eyes lay on me and he shushes dan instantly._

_the awfully short, compared to dan, guy points into my direction, causing dan to turn and glance at me._

_\- oh, hey phil. what's made you come here again? - he speaks up, dribbling the orange ball clumsily. when he loses grip of it and it bounces far across the hall, robert dashes to seize it and the blonde, of course, lays his hands on it in the perfect moment._

_dan hugs the ball to his chest and thanks the boy kindly as soon as he reaches the place where we and the other noisy course mates stand, providing me with some time to invent a story regarding to why i'm here._

_\- how about we film a gaming video after p.e.?_

_after my question, dan's, who's normally hostile attitude was visibly replaced by a contagiously radiant one, face lights up and he nods mildly. then, with a small wave of a hand, he suggests to relocate further away from the crowd, to one of the corners of the large gym._

_\- sure. i'm in a good mood so it could be fun. - dan agrees, his alluring tone soothing to my ears. - do you have anything on your mind? - when we reach the depressing (because of colour pealing off from the green painted wall) corner, he asks me and leans against the wall, undoubtedly exhausted from having to exercise for 40 minutes straight._

_'you're on my mind.' i would probably tell him in the Other universe. but in this one, my eyes bug out, confused due to his unexpected question._

_\- uh, nothing, really. - i utter in a moment, realizing that dan's true intention of his question was to discover whether i've come up with a game idea._

_my roommate opens his mouth to speak right away, appearing as if he wasn't even expecting to hear a response from me._

_\- well_ , i _was thinking we could play the sims. you can make up your own plot and the events never reoccur, whereas the other popular games most people have already played and know how they go by now. sims4 are a lot of fun, i played it with my friend back in england and we had built a posh household filled with our characters. - he jabbers, eventually running out of breath, so to make his small cough session less awkward for him, i insert the first question on my mind._

_\- how are we going to make, um, sims interesting to watch?_

_when dan has recovered, he purses his lips, pondering. my eyes linger on them for a second - resulting in a sudden 180 degree turn towards where a consistent loud bouncing that's made it hard to hear my and dan's conversation properly is taking place - all to resist the painful urge._

_\- it's us, we'll make something up._

_with that said, dan's dark figure sprints past me, apparently to return to his unfinished business with robert._

_i, however, keep standing there with my feet on the hard ground, forgetting about my class and filling up my mind with a repetitive 'us' instead._ ~ 

to say the least, i am having trouble editing with all these flashbacks of dan and i capturing my otherwise hopeful thoughts. i'm having trouble understanding why the feelings have become so much.

paused on the endless frame of my affectionate staring at dan, i think of how revoltingly easy it is - to fall for someone. all it takes is a wrong kind of touch, a glance, or even a word and noxious addiction overflows and destroys you.

after existing with dan every day for the past two months, it will be difficult to endure the next 5 days, i'm very sure because right now--

it's almost like i've forgotten how to breathe without him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter's songs: phil @ dan


End file.
